


Black Swan Theory

by roseclaw



Category: Bandom
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseclaw/pseuds/roseclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Primeval AU: Gerard took Frank out to the Pine Barrens of New Jersey for his birthday to look for the Jersey Devil. They found it - them. Kinda. It's complicated.  Bob-centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Swan Theory

**Black Swan Theory**

**Fandom:** Bandom (MCR, FOB, CS, and others)  
**Pairing:** Bob/Frank, Pete/Ashlee  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** ~26,000 words  
**Spoilers:** n/a  
**Warnings:** Detailed descriptions of dinosaurs eating. Sometimes that includes people. Off-page OC death (but above the fold). Inaccurate portrayal of the US government.  
**Author's Note:** Primeval!AU for bandombigbang. Thanks to the lovely saekokato for the beta and dealing with my multiple fits of insecurity. And a big thank you to xbeax for cheerleading when this story was a wee vignette. And a huge thank you to everyone who created bonus material for this. You guys are amazing!  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Summary:** Gerard took Frank out to the Pine Barrens of New Jersey for his birthday to look for the Jersey Devil. They found it - them. Kinda. It's complicated. Bob-centric.

"Gee said – It was – Jersey Devil."

Bob pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it. That was Frank's voice. He sounded mildly panicked and insanely excited.

Bob repeated the message. Frank still said those six words, and there was a whole lot of static in between.

Bob sighed and deleted the message. He dropped the papers he had just collected from his Intro students on his desk. He dropped his phone on top of the pile, and then he sat down heavily on his chair and propped his elbows up on his desk. He stared at his Pachycephalosaurus skull sitting on his bookshelf, acting as a bookend to all his journals. His books on the shelf above were kept upright by a large geode and willpower.

He tipped his head back to stare blankly at his ceiling. It was mildly therapeutic.

Frank was the worst TA in all the time Bob's had TAs. He had skipped out on Bob's Intro to Paleontology lecture. Yes, Bob realized that it was Frank's birthday, which was why the entire Paleobio department had a party planned, and the stupid fucker knew it. But Frank should have been at the lecture – fulfilling his title. Seriously, worst TA ever.

It was unclear as to how Gerard factored into this entire thing. Frank and Gerard had been known to sneak out and have strange adventures up and down the Jersey coast, but usually over the weekend and over breaks. Not when Frank was supposed to give a lecture and then suck down vast quantities of alcohol.

Mikey scowled as he entered Bob's office. "What did Frank do to Gee?" he demanded, as if Bob were Frank's keeper. Mikey loomed over Bob's desk, actually expecting an answer.

Bob shrugged.

Mikey scowled some more. Then he took out his phone and shoved it at Bob.

"Gerard sent me this picture," Mikey said.

Bob took the phone and stared at the screen. It was bright, whatever it was. Maybe Gerard had taken a picture of a prism with a light on it. Gerard had been listening to Pink Floyd recently. It didn't seem that cryptic for Gerard.

"What is it?" Bob finally asked.

"I thought you would know," Mikey answered.

"Not a clue," Bob said.

"He also called me, but I could only hear every other word," Mikey said.

"Frank called me. Same deal." Bob started to worry. Maybe there was actually something to the panic in Frank's voice. "He said something about the Jersey Devil."

"Gee, too," Mikey agreed.

Bob didn't like how their stories matched.

"Do you know where they are?" Bob asked.

"Gee said something about painting in the Pine Barrens," Mikey said, which might have been helpful. That's where the Jersey Devil was rumored to be. And Gerard never painted what he saw: he painted what he imagined based on what he saw. So Gerard probably painted a kickass Jersey Devil. Of course, that wouldn't cause Frank to panic. The thought of Bob not being there to protect Frank made him slightly queasy. He didn't want to think about it – about the reason for that queasy feeling: that would cause a slightly different queasy feeling, and Bob didn't have enough money to constantly pop antacids.

"I'm going to kill Frank," Bob said conversationally. If Frank was an hour away - when he should have been in Bob's class – watching Gerard paint, Bob was going to liberate Frank's spine from his back. And if Frank was an hour away – when he should have been in Bob's class – and managed to end up in a steaming pile of trouble, Bob was going to well, liberate Frank's spine from his back. If that hadn't been done already.

Mikey arched a sarcastic eyebrow.

"How long ago did your brother call?" Bob asked instead of addressing the question Mikey's eyebrows were asking.

"About an hour ago," Mikey said.

"Have you tried calling him back?" Bob suggested.

Mikey's look told Bob everything he needed to know. It also told Bob that he was stupid for asking such a stupid question.

"What about Frank?" Bob asked.

"Same," Mikey clipped.

Bob heard the thundering and squeaking of sneakers. He had enough time to take a deep breath, release it, and stand at his desk before Frank burst into the room.

"Bob!" Frank shouted. He didn't let the desk inhibit him from jumping on Bob's back. "Bob! You won't believe – Oh, hi, Mikey. Gee and I found the Jersey Devil! Except it wasn't really a devil. And it had a baby! And it was hunting! It totally wanted to eat us! But it didn't, because it didn't like cigarette smoke! Best birthday present ever!"

Bob was sure there were words in there somewhere.

Frank slid off Bob's back and ran back out into the hallway.

Bob looked to Mikey. Mikey shrugged.

"Gee! Hurry up!" Frank shouted down the hall.

"Frank," Bob said, ready to be the voice of reason. "Why shouldn't I fire your ass?"

Frank turned around and grinned widely. "Wait 'til you see what Gerard has! You'll be worshipping my ass."

"You weren't in lecture tonight," Bob said. "_You_ were supposed to give the lecture."

"Show him what you have," Frank said eagerly, ignoring Bob. He shoved Gerard into the room.

Gerard held a hoody to his chest. Actually.

"Is that mine?" Bob glowered at Gerard. Then he looked at Gerard's face. It looked as if Gerard had won the lottery… or been offered a trip in the Batmobile.

Bob's hoody chirped.

Oh, God, he was going to regret it, but he had to ask, "What animal did you find? And why did you bring it into my office?" Gerard cradled Bob's hoody. "Please tell me that's not a baby."

"No," Frank sang. "It's an adult. Show them, Gee!"

Gerard slowly peeled back a layer of cloth to reveal a lizard's head. It was like no lizard Bob had ever seen, but it was really familiar.

Gerard pulled back the cloth even farther to reveal that it wasn't exactly a lizard. There were pale green and brown marbled patterns on the lizard's body with the exception of a cream-colored underbelly. It had short forearms and powerful hind legs as well as a thick, ridged tail.

"Holy fuck," Bob whispered.

"Told you!" Frank beamed.

"I take back most of the horrible things I've ever said about you, Iero," Bob said in a dazed voice.

"As near as I can tell it's some sort of Heterodontosauridae," Gerard said happily.

"Fruitadens," Bob said. "It's a fucking duck-bill."

Mikey peered around his brother to take a look at what he had.

"You have a dinosaur," Mikey said.

The dinosaur in Bob's hoody chirped again.

"Holy fuck," Bob repeated.

He reached out to touch it as if that would be a testament to Bob's sanity.

"I wouldn't do that," Gerard advised. "She bites."

"She?" Mikey said.

"Her name is Gladys," Gerard stated proudly.

"We saved her in the Pine Barrens," Frank said smugly. "This Dilophosaur totally wanted to eat us and Gladys. But we saved her. We think the Dilophosaur was trying to teach its baby how to hunt."

Mikey and Bob stared at Frank and Gerard.

"There was a gas leak, right?" Bob said. "We're all having the same hallucination. Because I cannot think of one rational reason why there should be a dinosaur in my office – a live dinosaur," he added before anyone could point out the many plaster skeletal replicas.

Gerard gave Bob a look. "I sent Mikey a picture."

"Of a bright light," Mikey pointed out.

"Hey, guys?"

Bob looked up to see Ray standing in the doorway.

"There's a party going on downstairs," Ray said.

"Ray!" Gerard said excitedly. "Gladys needs your help!"

Bob was unaware that there was something Gladys needed. Other than a reality check. Bob figured that most of them needed reality checks anyway.

Ray frowned. "Who's Gladys?"

"Gee's dinosaur," Frank chimed in.

"Gerard's… dinosaur?" Ray asked. He finally looked to Gerard's hands, to Bob's hoody.

Gladys chirped. It sounded like an angry chirp. A disgruntled chirp.

"This is Gladys," Gerard stated. He had a dopey grin on his face. Bob was half worried that Gerard was going to start baby-talking to the dinosaur.

"Jesus," Ray whispered. "Is that really a…"

"Yeah!" Frank said. "But she needs your help."

"What's wrong with her?" Ray asked, immediately concerned.

"Her leg's broken," Gerard said.

"Oh!" Ray exclaimed, stepping into the room. "Give her here." He held out his arms.

Frank stuck his head out the door and looked both ways before closing the door to Bob's office.

Gerard carefully handed Gladys over to Ray. Gladys mewled, and Bob thought she might have growled when Ray jostled her leg. He was listening to a _fucking dinosaur_. They might be the first five people in the history of the world to hear a dinosaur. To say it was surreal would not do the moment any justice.

Ray removed one of her legs from the hoody. She snapped at his fingers and growled. She also squirmed, trying to escape. Not that Bob blamed her: Ray had her in a headlock. It must have been really uncomfortable.

Ray ran his fingers down her leg, which caused her to squirm harder and howl.

"It feels like a clean break in her – Is it still the tibiotarsus if it's a dinosaur and not a bird?" Ray asked. "It hasn't pierced the skin, fortunately. I can put her in a splint. I'm not sure how to do it, though. Dinosaurs aren't covered in Vert A&amp;P."

"Treat her like a bird," Frank advised.

"I need some things from Supply," Ray said. He handed Gladys back to Gerard.

"What do you need?" Bob asked.

"Gerard, please bring her to my lab," Ray said. "Bob, could you help me?"

"Sure," Bob agreed.

"I'll let people downstairs know to carry on without us," Mikey offered.

"You're passing up a party?" Frank asked, he sounded more surprised than he should have.

"Gee's holding a dinosaur," Mikey pointed out. Bob marveled at Mikey's uncanny ability for understatement.

"Yeah, I am," Gerard said happily.

~

Ray and Bob could only find surgical tape in Supply. They found other things, just nothing else of use.

They also raided the first aid kit in Ray's office for gauze.

"Which one of us is going to tell Gerard that the dinosaur needs to go back to where he found it?" Bob asked as they returned to Ray's lab.

"I can do it," Ray said. "You might need to enforce it, though."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Bob agreed.

Mikey joined them on the way.

"How's the party going?" Ray asked.

"Pete's made it his personal mission that everyone becomes properly drunk," Mikey said, then he added, "So Frank doesn't have to."

"So no one will notice we're not there?" Ray asked.

"Sure," Mikey said as if he hadn't thought about that.

Frank and Gerard were sitting on the lab bench. Gladys was in the sink. Bob wanted to point out that putting her in the sink was not the best idea they'd ever had, but he decided against it.

She chirped at Ray, but she seemed to remember him and changed her chirp to a growl.

"How am I supposed to get her out of the sink?" Ray asked.

"I'll do it," Frank offered. He hopped off the lab bench and scooped Gladys out of the sink before she could snap at his fingers.

"Good," Ray said. "Now hold her on her side with her broken leg out – Yeah, like that."

Frank held Gladys down on the lab bench while Gladys squirmed and tried to nip at his fingers. He held her directly behind the skull and on her hip. With the hand holding down her hip, Frank was able to use his forearm to hold down her tail.

"Okay," Ray continued. "Bob, I need you to dispense the gauze then tape, and Mikey, I need you to grab the ethanol from under the hood."

Mikey found the ethanol under the hood and handed it off to Ray, who soaked Gladys's leg and his own hands.

They all stared at Gladys squirming as the ethanol evaporated. Surreal. Too fucking surreal.

"Okay, Bob, gauze first," Ray said.

Bob rolled out the gauze and handed it off to Ray, who wrapped it tightly around Gladys's upper leg and down past her ankle joint. Bob cut the rest of the gauze and put it away.

"Now I need the tape," Ray said.

Bob rolled out the tape, and Ray wound it around Gladys's leg over the gauze.

When Ray finished, he grabbed Gladys's foot and used it to move her leg.

She mewled halfheartedly and tried to kick at Frank with her good leg.

"She's going to be fine," Ray announced.

"That's good," Gerard said. He had spent the entire ordeal hovering over Frank's shoulder and biting his lip.

"Now we need to return her," Ray said kindly.

Gerard drew in a harsh breath. "We can't return her: she's injured!"

"Gerard," Ray said patiently. "She needs to go back."

"Can I let her up?" Frank asked.

"Don't let her stand yet," Ray advised. "But you can hold her."

Gerard snatched her up before Frank had fully let her go.

"Gerard," Ray said patiently.

Bob recognized that he needed to step up as his role as enforcer, but then Mikey broke in unexpectedly.

"I want to see where she came from," he announced.

Gerard's face lit up.

"I'll drive," Bob said resignedly. If they were going on a road trip, especially after dark, he didn't want anyone but himself or Ray behind the wheel.

~

Bob grunted at Gerard as he attempted to give admittedly pitiful directions and coo at Gladys simultaneously.

Frank then took over and became the worst backseat driver in the history of horrible backseat drivers. Bob wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel.

Mikey sat beside Bob, texting Wentz, occasionally providing commentary – most of which Bob filed under Too Much Information, which he needed to purge his brain of by drinking his weight in beer. Which was what he should have been doing instead of driving out to the Pine Barrens in the middle of the night.

Ray fussed over Gladys, too, so he wasn't any help.

There was a dinosaur in the backseat of Bob's Jeep. It was ridiculous. Beyond weird.

"Take this right!" Frank shouted into Bob's ear. They were about ten feet from the turnoff. Fucking Jersey drivers.

Bob decided saying something aloud would be a waste of breath. He took the turnoff too quickly, and Frank ended up in Gerard's lap, which had already been occupied by Gladys.

Gladys protested vehemently.

"You're going to take your next left," Gerard said around Frank's hair.

Frank giggled.

Bob hoped that this trip yielded some explanation otherwise… Maybe he should have taken that cushy job at the American Museum of Natural History where he looked at dead things all day. It wasn't glamorous, except for the part of occasionally being filmed for National Geographic or the Discovery Channel – Bob didn't care for that anyway. But it didn't involve road trips in the middle of the night to the Pine Barrens with his obnoxious TA starring as the world's most horrible backseat driver, his obnoxious TA's BFF starring as the King of other people's TMI, and two dudes, who couldn't be gayer even if there was actual sex involved, were cooing to a dinosaur.

Except there was a dinosaur in the backseat, and Bob wouldn't trade this for anything. He's here by choice, and it was a damn good one.

"Where do you think the dinosaur came from?" Ray asked.

"Her mommy," Frank giggled.

Bob rolled his eyes.

"She's out of time," Ray needlessly reminded everyone. "How?"

"Dude, like the coelacanth," Frank pointed out.

"What about the coelacanth?" Ray asked.

"What's a coelacanth?" Mikey asked.

"Oh!" Gerard enthused. "Tell him about the coelacanth!"

"Stop saying coelacanth!" Bob barked.

"Coelacanth," Frank said around his giggles.

"We'll settle this later, Iero," Bob warned.

Frank didn't seem too concerned. "The parking lot's coming up on your right.

"The coelacanth," Frank continued. Bob growled under his breath. "It's this fish that appeared in the fossil record a couple hundred millions of years ago. Like, Middle Devonian – "

"After the Cambrian explosion!" Gerard added, which explained why Mikey had not heard about the coelacanth in great detail.

"After the Cambrian explosion," Frank repeated. "It was found in the fossil record up 'til the Cretaceous, when it was assumed to go extinct, because, you know, no longer in the fossil record. But in the 1930's it was found swimming around the Indian Ocean – very, very extant. Which, weird."

"It's now called, uh, _Latimeria_?" Gerard offered. "I'm not too up to date with this sort of thing."

Bob snorted. Up to date with Gerard was anything that happened in the past five hundred million years.

"That's the genus," Ray said as Frank shouted, "Turn here!"

Bob was able to take the corner on four wheels, but it was a near thing. He parked the car in the middle of an empty, dirt parking lot.

"Now what?" he asked.

Gladys chirped.

Gerard agreed.

~

There was only so much wandering around in the dark that Bob could handle, especially with Frank and Gerard muttering, "I _know_ it was here!" He was frustrated, and his feet were cold and wet from when Frank "accidentally" knocked him into a puddle. The forest was dark and sort of foggy, thanks to the mild weather. The flashlight Ray carried created a single beam of light, which was not enough.

The air buzzed in Bob's ear for a moment before his ears popped. Bob shook his head a little and swallowed hard to make sure his ears had popped fully.

The air felt slightly charged, like right before lightning struck.

In front of all five of them (and Gladys), a large light pulsed into existence like something out of an alien encounter movie. It was like a broken mirror suspended in time with a spotlight on it. It was blinding, and Bob heard Ray fumble to turn off his flashlight.

"Hell fucking yes!" Frank enthused, jumping onto Bob's back. Bob staggered under Frank's sudden weight, but Bob managed to keep him up.

Mikey gawked at the light for a moment before he dove into his bag and pulled out a pen and pad of paper. He started scribbling furiously.

Bob shrugged Frank off. "What the hell is that?"

"That's where Gladys came from," Gerard said. Gladys squirmed in his arms, obviously wanting to be anywhere but. "Gladys, no," he admonished firmly.

Bob's ears popped again. There was a rush of blood in his ears… except it wasn't. It was a fucking dinosaur that bounded out of the side the light at top speed. All Bob caught of it was that it was a sauropod. And it was huge. Not huge like _Argentinosaurus_, but it was at least ten feet long.

Gladys went rigid in Gerard's arms.

Three Dilophosaurs ran from the light and followed the sauropod.

"Holy shit," Ray whispered.

They listened to the dinosaurs crash through the forest.

"Those are dinosaurs," Mikey said as he surfaced from his note taking. The light bounced off his metal pen. Mikey was the only person Bob knew of who refused to use plastic pens like everyone else. He used the expensive metal kind. Bob had asked once, but the story began with Wentz and an open flame, and that's all Bob's brain could process.

Mikey balanced his pen on the top of his note pad, and it was sucked into the light.

"The fuck?" he muttered. "It's magnetic."

Then, before anyone could stop him, Mikey went into the light.

"Mikey!" Gerard shouted and ran after him.

"Crap," Frank said. "Bob, go after them."

"Fuck you," Bob said. He went after them anyway.

The light was blinding, and it made a sucking sound as Bob stepped through. It didn't feel hot as Bob had expected it to: it was like stepping into a door of Jell-o, sucking at Bob's skin.

He immediately ran into Gerard and Mikey, who were staring like slack-jawed morons.

It _was_ beautiful. It was day, too. They stood at the bank of a river. It had clear water, and there wasn't a plastic bag or beer bottle in sight. There was no fish wire tangled in trees or Styrofoam cups along the shore. Just rocks and water were in the river. A fish jumped out of the water to snap at a dragonfly.

There were jagged, snow-capped mountains and tall conifers. The world smelled of pine and rain. It most definitely did not smell like Jersey.

"Is this the Jurassic?" Gerard asked. His voice was breathy.

Gladys trilled and squirmed in Gerard's arms.

There was an answering chirp from the undergrowth.

This was followed by a roar.

"Okay," Bob said decisively. "Everyone back through the rift." He pushed Mikey and Gerard in the direction of the rift.

They then dove for cover when the sauropod ran back through the rift followed by the Dilophosaurs.

Gladys cried out and tried to scramble for cover, but thankfully, the Dilophosaurs were more interested in the sauropod.

Bob, Gerard, and Mikey took the opportunity to run back through the rift before Bob had the chance to make Gerard leave Gladys.

"You're alive!" Frank shouted.

Bob gave him a sour look.

"You brought Gladys back," Ray observed in a neural voice.

"It was so beautiful!" Gerard said. "We were in the Jurassic! There were mountains and trees."

"You were actually in the Jurassic?" Frank asked.

"Yes," Mikey said. "My pen almost landed in dinosaur shit."

"You're sure it was the Jurassic?" Frank pressed.

"I didn't stop to grab a newspaper," Bob grumbled. "But based on the Dilophosaurs and the fact that it was light out, yes, we were in the Jurassic."

"Why didn't you leave Gladys there?" Ray asked.

Gerard didn't answer. In the light cast by the rift, Bob could tell he was scowling.

"You can't keep a dinosaur," Ray pointed out sensibly. "She needs to go back with her own kind."

"I can't put her back," Gerard said stubbornly. "She's hurt. She'll be eaten by the Dilophosaurs."

"That's how the world works," Mikey said humorlessly. "You can't keep her anyhow. She'd starve to death."

"I'd feed her," Gerard protested.

"Gerard," Ray said patiently. "Your cactus died last month."

"No! I – really?" Gerard asked.

"Its carcass is still in its sad, little pot," Frank said mournfully. "But don't worry. Bob's really good at being responsible."

"It's called being an adult, asshole," Bob said dryly. "And I'm not taking Gerard's dinosaur. It should be sent back through the rift."

Bob shielded his eyes as the rift grew larger and brighter, and then it disappeared all together. The forest was very dark after that.

"Fuck," Bob said succinctly, scowling in the direction where the rift had been.

"Gladys can totally sleep in your bed," Frank volunteered. "Do you think she can be paper trained?"

"No," Bob said firmly, addressing both of Frank's statements.

"You can't let Gerard neglect her," Frank protested. And damn it, Bob knew why Ray and Mikey were not stopping Frank from wheedling, and Bob hated them for it. "You said you were thinking about another pet after Dixie died."

"I hate you all," Bob announced.

"I know we're all worried about Gladys, but are we sure all of the dinosaurs except her have gone back through the rift?" Ray asked.

They all shared a look and bolted for Bob's Jeep.

~

Bob dropped everyone off by the science building. Except for Frank, who offered to help situate Gladys in Bob's house. Bob didn't object, because Frank needed to pick up lab reports Bob had collected. Frank was going to fulfill his job title as TA even if it killed one of them. Bob assumed that he would be the one killing Frank.

Bob pulled into his driveway, but he considered turning around quickly. Because at the last moment he noticed a man standing ramrod straight on his front porch. Based the man's stance, he looked like law enforcement. There was no way he could hide any of what he had in his car. Which shouldn't have been Bob's first thought.

Bob sighed and slipped out of his car. Frank bounded after him, Gladys in his arms. At least Frank was tiny and could easily hide behind Bob. In theory.

There was something about this guy's stance that really bothered Bob. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"Dr. Bryar?" the man asked curtly. He flashed a badge that wasn't so much a badge as it was a piece of paper: CIA. Fuckity-fuck. Bob couldn't think of a worst possible scenario… unless Gladys squirmed free and bit him. "Agent Schechter."

"Yeah?" Bob asked. He couldn't think of a single reason why a CIA agent would need to pay him a visit.

"I have a few questions to ask," Agent Schechter said. "May I come in?"

Bob narrowed his eyes. "No, whatever it is can be asked out here."

"I'd prefer discretion," Agent Schechter insisted.

"Who knows how long you've been standing on my porch," Bob pointed out. "I'm sure the neighbors have already noticed." He paused. "Did any trick-or-treaters ask you for candy?"

Frank barely clamped down a giggle.

Bob noticed the tattoo on Agent Schechter's neck and decided that future smartass remarks should be internalized only. Bob could think of several reasons why a CIA agent would be hired with a visible tattoo. None of those reasons were… well, none of them mixed well with smartass remarks.

"The questions are purely professional," Agent Schechter said. "I don't give a fuck if you left your bong out."

"Not his bong," Frank chirped. "But I left my leather whip and cuffs all over the furniture!"

Agent Schechter gave Frank a dry look. "I can tell when someone lies to me, you know."

Frank stared back with wide, innocent eyes.

Gladys mewled.

Bob wanted to die.

The agent raised an eyebrow.

"Fuck it," Bob muttered. "Fine, get in." He unlocked the door and all but shoved Frank inside. Bob figured the agent would have enough sense to follow. He did.

Bob motioned everyone into his living room. "Stay here," he ordered to both Frank and the agent. He needed to find the dog gates he put away after Dixie died. He was glad that his idea of away was to slide them in the small crevasse between the refrigerator and the wall.

He set up the gates on both entrances to the kitchen and as an afterthought put out a bowl of water, then he took Gladys from Frank. She was still wrapped up in his hoody, so the agent had been in the dark as to what… contraband they were smuggling into the house.

Bob placed Gladys, hoody and all, onto the kitchen floor. He watched in fascination as he leaned against his refrigerator as she emerged from the hoody and toddled off to explore her surroundings. She occasionally lost her footing on the linoleum as she limped around the kitchen, but she quickly regained her balance again. Her limp was barely noticeable. Wild animals would not want to show their weakness, in case a predator was around.

"What the hell is that?" Agent Schechter asked. He stood against the kitchen counter. Bob should have guessed the agent wouldn't stay put. And would ask probing questions that Bob didn't want to answer.

"My bong," Bob shot back.

"Did you steal that from Jurassic fucking Park?" Agent Schechter asked. Bob wasn't sure if it was a serious question or not. He wasn't going to respond that Gladys really was from the Jurassic, unlike all of the dinosaurs in the movie and book, which were from the Cretaceous. And there was no way that Bob could pass Gladys off as an exotic lizard. Not that there was much of a chance of that: anyone who had ever seen a picture of a dinosaur, even the pathetic animatronics from old cave men movies, would know Gladys was a dinosaur.

Frank giggled. Of course Frank wouldn't stay put no matter what happened or what Bob ordered.

"I doubt those were the questions you've come to ask," Bob said instead.

Agent Schechter scowled. "I have a few questions concerning the Jersey Devil."

"I'm not the professor you should ask," Bob said. He didn't want to know why the CIA was after the Jersey Devil. "You ought to talk to Andy Hurley."

"He's one of the best anthropologists out there," Frank agreed as he edged closer to Bob. "We earned our anthro doctorates together."

"He pointed me in your direction," Agent Schechter explained. "After he gave me a lengthy lecture on fascism within the American government."

"I'm sure he did," Bob said with a satisfied smirk. "Why did he point you to me?"

"He felt you would have a better handle on these new claims of the Devil looking like a giant, prehistoric beast," Agent Schechter said. It sounded like the agent had issued a challenge. Agent Schechter narrowed his eyes. Bob couldn't tell if it was directed at him or Frank.

"Or he thought I wasn't suffering enough with Frank as my TA – worst TA in history, by the way – so he felt the need to punish me more by sending you my way," Bob muttered.

"Andy's not an all-powerful God," Frank said blithely.

"But he is spiteful," Bob reminded him. "I thought the CIA was about spies," Bob continued. "Why would an agent need to know about the Jersey Devil?" Also, why would an agent come to speak with Bob alone and not with a partner?

"Yeah!" Frank added. "Who'd you piss off?"

Bob shot Frank a warning look. Not that it would do any good. Or anything at all.

"Are you able to answer _my_ questions?" Agent Schechter asked in favor of ignoring Frank. Bob thought that was a wise decision.

Bob shrugged. "You haven't asked them yet."

"What do you know about the Jersey Devil?" Agent Schechter asked. He crossed his arms.

"Urban legend," Bob said. "Frank can probably tell you more."

"I taught a class in local folklore," Frank stated proudly.

"Did you show up for that one?" Bob grumbled.

"I told you – I showed you – why I didn't show up," Frank protested. "I even left a message!"

Bob snorted. "Tell the nice agent all about the Devil."

"It's actually a Dilophosaur," Frank said with a shrug.

Bob flinched. He was certain Agent Schechter picked up on it, but Bob couldn't control himself. Frank never gave a direct answer, especially when asked for one. Of course, in this case, the answer could easily be taken as facetious. Except for the fact that Gladys's nails clicked unevenly on the kitchen floor as she explored.

Agent Schechter raised his eyebrows. "A Dilophosaur?"

"Yeah," Frank said. "You know the dinosaur from Jurassic Park with the frills? Dilophosaurus is like that except three times larger and doesn't have the frills."

"You're saying the Jersey Devil is a dinosaur that went extinct sixty-five million years ago," Agent Schechter said flatly.

"No," Frank said. He pulled out his wide eyes and used them on the agent. "They went extinct two hundred twenty million years ago."

The agent gave Frank a bland look.

There was a splash and a cry from the kitchen.

Bob closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he saw Gladys floundering about in a puddle the size of the Atlantic Ocean on his kitchen floor.

"You're crazy," Agent Schechter said. "Flat-out insane. But. You have a dinosaur in your kitchen."

Bob set Gladys upright. He also threw a dishtowel over the ocean on his floor. Gladys immediately went to stand in it. She made tiny clicking sounds as she stomped on the towel. It was like she was trying to extract her revenge on the water for making her slip.

"Her name is Gladys," Frank said then added almost unnecessarily, "She's a duck-bill."

Agent Schechter didn't respond. Instead, he said, "What the fuck am I going to tell my boss?"

Bob took pity on him. "You could go with the truth," he offered.

Agent Schechter gave him a murderous look. It was kind of hot. Hey, just because Bob had an inappropriate crush on Frank – who was a student, which meant he was strictly hands-off – didn't mean that Bob couldn't look at other men.

"It's worth a try," Bob said with a shrug.

"Do you have anything else to offer me?" Agent Schechter asked.

"Nope," Frank said with a pop. "Gladys is ours. We couldn't adopt a human, so we adopted a pet."

Bob shot Frank a warning look. There was pushing, and then there was _Frank pushing_. Bob had to draw a line somewhere.

"I'm going to regret asking this, but _how_ is it the Jersey Devil – hell, Gladys – is a dinosaur when they've been extinct for a couple hundred million years?"

"It's a complex physics thing," Bob said with a shrug. He didn't want to mention Mikey's name. Bob still wasn't sure exactly what would happen to him and Frank, so he most certainly didn't want to drag Mikey, Gerard, or Ray into something potentially dangerous. Bob wanted Frank to keep his damn mouth shut. That, however, was an exercise in futility. Hell, that was a fucking marathon of futility.

Bob was half worried that Frank would make some ridiculous hand gestures.

Agent Schechter gave Bob a look.

"It's a rip in space and time. We call it a rift," Bob explained. He mentally screamed at himself for using the wrong pronoun. He should have used "I." Maybe Agent Schechter would take that to mean Bob and Frank instead of Bob and Frank and others. Bob should be so lucky. Instead, Bob had Frank.

Frank crowded Bob's space, wrapping an arm around Bob's waist and burying his face in Bob's shoulder. Bob had no idea what Frank was trying to do, but that wasn't the most pressing issue at the moment.

"Yeah, we do. I came up with the name," Frank boasted.

Bob wasn't sure if he wanted to punch or kiss Frank for going along with it. Or both. Usually Bob wanted to do both. Bob also didn't want to point out that Mikey had named it, but he could say, "No, you didn't. You stole it from Doctor Who."

"Semantics," Frank mumbled into Bob's armpit.

Bob had no idea what Frank's angle was, but he could stop any time now.

It was almost as if Frank were marking Bob as his territory. Bob felt mildly better knowing that Frank's piss wasn't involved. But there were less intrusive things Frank could do in front of an undoubtedly armed CIA agent.

"Clearly I've crashed your date," Agent Schechter said dryly.

"It's my birthday," Frank said as if agreeing with Agent Schechter.

"I'll contact you later if I have further questions." Agent Schechter saw his own way out.

As soon as the door was closed, Bob shoved Frank off. "What the hell, Iero! We are not dating."

"He was checking you out," Frank whined.

That was news to Bob, but still. "And you felt the need to cockblock?"

Frank hmphed and gave Bob his space.

"What is it?" Bob asked.

"The government is looking into our secret," Frank muttered.

"Yeah," Bob sighed, hoping Frank was talking about the dinosaurs.

Gladys chirped and looked up to the counter.

"Do you think they'll try to take her?" Frank asked softly.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea that there's a dinosaur in my kitchen," Bob admitted.

Frank waggled his eyebrows. Bob didn't want to know what that meant.

"She's probably hungry," Bob said instead of address Frank's weirdness. A redundancy, yet…

"What does she eat?" Frank asked.

"Are you asking because you're trying to make conversation or because you're the worst TA in history?" Bob asked.

Frank hmphed at him again.

"Look at her fucking teeth," Bob said somewhat exasperatedly.

"I did earlier, and she bit me," Frank admitted sullenly. "That's how Gerard knew she bites."

"I wasn't going to ask," Bob said.

Frank shrugged. "Do you have anything in your fridge for her?"

"Beer," Bob said. "That's for me."

"I'm not going to give your dinosaur beer," Frank said defensively.

"Good," Bob said, then, "_My_ dinosaur?"

"Because you're responsible," Frank huffed. "I'm not going to let Gerard neglect her. Besides you know I feel – "

"The lab reports for you to grade are on the table," Bob interrupted. There were a lot of places Bob didn't want the conversation to go: Frank's emotional status was one of them.

"Yeah," Frank said. "I saw."

He grabbed the stack of papers and sulked as he left the kitchen. Bob had to bite back his smile at the fact that Frank couldn't step over the dog gate: he had to jump. Bob knew well enough to let Frank be when he was in that sort of mood.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Bryar," Frank said tersely. His hand seemed to crush the doorknob.

"Happy Birthday, Frank," Bob called softly. He saw Frank's face light up even though he didn't turn around. That's what window reflections were for.

Frank still slammed the door behind him.

Gladys chirped and then shit all over the kitchen floor.

Bob sighed and went in search of his mop.

~

Someone banged heavily on Bob's door. Continuously. Relentlessly. It upset Gladys; she scurried around the kitchen looking for cover, releasing panicked clicks as she went. Bob sincerely hoped whoever was behind that door didn't expect him to dole out candy. It had been November for the past few hours or so: Halloween was over. He had just managed to fall asleep – well, he passed out on his couch.

Bob grumbled, but answered the door anyway. It was Frank.

"My car's at the school," Frank said as he pushed his way in past Bob.

Bob wasn't going to ask what Frank had done for the hour or so he'd been gone. He did look cold, though. Despite how mild the evening had been, it was well past midnight, and the temperature had probably dropped below freezing. Frank only wore his ratty jeans and oversized hoody… that he had stolen from Bob. Bob hadn't said anything about _that_, though. Mostly because he kinda liked the idea of Frank wearing his clothing.

"You're a fucktard," Bob said. He threw Frank the blanket from the back of the couch.

Frank caught the blanket, but he had to drop the lab reports already in his hands to make room.

Bob sighed. "Pick up the papers and take the couch."

Frank smiled widely. "You're awesome, Bobert."

Bob grunted and ran a hand through his unruly couch-hair. He'd need to have it cut soon.

"I bought Gladys some lettuce," Frank said. He pulled some leafy lettuce from the pouch of the hoody. It's a peace offering for their almost-fight. God, they're both such girls.

Gladys enjoyed her lettuce and tearing it to bits and tossing it about Bob's kitchen.

In the morning, Bob gave Frank the mop.

~

Gerard was outside Bob's office, and he looked distraught. He saw Bob, and his expression became full-out panic. He ran up to Bob, personal space be damned.

"Bob!" he said in a high, squeaky voice and way too quickly before Bob had ingested nearly enough caffeine. "Have you seen the paper this morning?!"

Bob had not. "Why?"

Gerard threw a newspaper into Bob's chest. His fist wasn't far behind.

"What the fuck, Gerard?" Bob shouted, more surprised than anything else. He didn't think Gerard had ever hit anyone in his life.

"Read it," he said indignantly.

Bob peeled the paper out from under Gerard's fist. The headline was "Jersey Devil Massacre" – Bob didn't even bother to read the subtitle. He didn't bother to look at the accompanying photographs either.

"The fuck?" Bob asked.

"Look at their bodies!" Gerard hissed.

Bob knew he shouldn't, but he did. He looked at the grizzly, black and white photographs. How the hell had those even ended up in the paper never mind the front fucking page - _above_ the fold?

"They were eaten," Bob said. "God fucking damn it."

"Mikey and I are positive that the Dilophosaurs did that," Gerard said. Bob had already come to that conclusion, though. And he drew a connection between the agent last night and the Jersey Devil. But why CIA? Shouldn't it be the FBI or NSA? Those were the people who dealt with crimes, not the CIA. Those were the spies. "Mikey said the blogs have exploded."

"Have you told Frank or Ray?" Bob asked.

"Ray's not in until noon, and Frank's not picking up his phone," Gerard said.

Bob thinned his lips and debated whether or not to tell Gerard about the agent last night. Gerard was already beating himself up over not being able to help the people who had been eaten. Bob knew Gerard too well to think otherwise. Honestly, though, what could he have done to prevent people being eaten? Been eaten himself? Killed the dinosaurs?

Apparently there was no reason to tell Gerard about the agent. Frank ran down the hall in their direction. Agent Schechter followed him.

"Fuck," Bob muttered under his breath.

"Your friend's back," Frank sang as he jumped on Bob's back. "Can we keep him, too? He and Gladys can be playmates and argue over who gets to shit on the kitchen floor."

Bob bit back his wry comments.

Gerard looked confused, which was better than like a kicked puppy.

"CIA," Bob said, hopefully answering Gerard's question.

Agent Schechter regarded Bob carefully. Bob also didn't miss the glance the agent gave Gerard – as if the agent concluded that Gerard was mostly harmless. Nor did Bob miss the glare Agent Schechter gave Frank, who nipped at Bob's ear.

Bob swatted at Frank and landed a hit in the dead center of Frank's face, almost shoving a finger up Frank's nose and definitely catching on Frank's nose ring. And Frank, the masochist, giggled.

"Dr. Bryar," Agent Schechter said stiffly.

Gerard cocked an eyebrow but otherwise watched in rapt interest.

"Is this going to become a habit?" Bob asked. "Because if it is, just call me Bob."

The agent gave him a bland look. "Very well. Bob, you and your… friend need to come with me for questioning."

"Is that what the kids are calling it now a'days?" Frank muttered.

Bob ignored Frank, but he raised his eyebrows. "Should I cancel my classes or can we do this in the next hour?" There was a note of sarcasm to his voice but only a note.

"You're just going to give it up?" Frank hissed into his ear. "Hussy."

Bob smirked as he dropped Frank to the floor. It was even more satisfying to know that Frank didn't land on his feet, but Bob didn't give Frank the satisfaction of looking down at him. Bob ignored Frank's string of curses.

"I read the paper this morning," Bob sort of lied. He had seen the headline, and the paper was still in his hand, and that was what counted. "If that's why you had a question about, then stuff it. You want an alibi? I was in lecture. All of my students – the ones that give a fuck enough to show up – can vouch for me."

Agent Schechter's look curdled. "This is about your… Glinda."

"Glinda?" Frank asked. "You have a girlfriend, Bob? I thought you were a friend of Dorothy's, not Glinda's."

Bob pinched the bridge of his nose to quell the urge to smack Frank. Violence never worked with Frank. "I think he means Gladys," Bob said.

"Bob," Gerard said carefully. "Why is the CIA asking about Gladys?"

A passing student gave them a very odd look.

"The paper," Bob explained, handing Gerard back the newspaper. "Jesus, fuck. Let's continue this in my office."

Bob shoved the three of them into his office. Agent Schechter regarded Gerard differently, harder, as if he had amended his "mostly harmless" assessment to something a little more dangerous. And fuck it all, Gerard had mentioned Gladys, and both he and Frank were in the Pine Barrens when everything written about in the paper went down.

"Who are you?" Agent Schechter demanded of Gerard the moment the door to Bob's office shut.

They stood in the tiny entranceway of Bob's office, way too close to each other. Frank stood too close to Bob, anyway.

"Dr. Gerard Way," he answered with a grin. "Expert in pre-Cambrian and undergrad life forms. I try to save the world one coed at a time."

Bob raised an eyebrow. He would have expected something like that from Frank, not Gerard.

"And your involvement with Gladys?" Agent Schechter pressed.

"You haven't told me your name yet," Gerard said sweetly.

"Agent Brian Schechter," Agent Schechter said. "Your involvement with Gladys?"

"I saved her!" Gerard stated proudly. "Frank and I saved her."

"When and where?" Agent Schechter demanded.

"The Pine Barrens yesterday," Gerard said. Stupid Gerard. Couldn't he have stuck with the smartass remarks instead of switching back to his earnestness?

"What Gerard means is," Frank interrupted, "that we rescued Gladys from the Dilophosaurs because she was hurt."

Agent Schechter stared at Frank. "What the actual fuck." It wasn't even a question. Just a statement. An unprofessional statement.

"She had a broken leg," Gerard protested. "We couldn't leave her or let her go back through the rift."

"How many is 'we'?" Agent Schechter demanded.

"Just the thr- "

"There are five of us," Gerard interrupted.

Bob glared at him. Frank looked ready to say something that was probably better left internalized.

"Five?" the agent repeated. He sighed, obviously exasperated with the situation. "All five of you need to come with me." Then he muttered, "This is a fucking PR nightmare."

Instead of attempting to soothe the rattled agent, like Bob had originally intended, Mikey burst into Bob's office without knocking and announced – without checking the company – that, "I calculated the existence of the rift." Then he noticed the mixed company. "Who are you?"

"I was about to ask the same," the agent said wryly.

"This is Agent Brian," Gerard said. "He knows about Gladys, and we were just explaining the Dilophosaurs."

"Oh," Mikey said without detail or anything continued with, "87.6 fm."

"87.6 fm?" the agent repeated. "Someone had better explain this – in front of witnesses. I'm assuming he's a fourth person? Where's your fifth?"

"He won't be in until noon," Gerard explained.

"We'll pick him up on the way to New York," Agent Schechter said. "But this needs to be dealt with now."

"Road trip!" Frank shouted as he jumped on Bob's arm. "I claim not-bitch!"

"Shotgun," Mikey announced.

"You're riding bitch, Frank," Bob decided.

"But Bob!" Frank whined.

"Tough shit," Bob said. "Let's go now, Agent Schechter."

Agent Schechter looked as enthusiastic as Bob felt. "I have an SUV," he said. "No one has to ride bitch."

~

Gerard spent most of the ride into the city lecturing "Agent Brian" on the evils of driving an SUV on the juices of his beloved prehistoric crustaceans, mollusks, and everything else with a shell and soft parts.

Brian spent it ignoring Gerard and shouting into his Bluetooth.

Bob spent most of the ride intercepting Frank's attacks and discussing with Ray about the disappearance of belly ribs within late-Jurassic dinosaurs and how it applied to the diversion of mammals and birds.

Mikey texted.

Agent Schechter drove like he had grown up in New York City bastardized with trips down the Jersey Turnpike. It was rather fitting given that they were driving up the Pike.

Bob was honestly surprised that no one was killed on the way there.

~

They sat around a conference table overlooking lower Manhattan and the East River. Well, everyone but Frank sat around a conference table. Frank had his forehead pressed up against the window as he watched the street below.

"You're smudging the glass, Iero," Bob said absently. "Sit down and pretend to be an adult."

Frank frowned but did as Bob asked.

As soon as Frank took a seat, five men and two women in suits flooded the room. Bob could barely tell the difference between them other than sex. They all sat down, opened a file, and began to read silently.

Finally one of them said, "Please explain this so-called rift, Mr. Bryar."

"Doctor," Bob said then cleared his throat. "It's a rip in space and time that acts as a portal."

"What does that mean to us as a society?" a female suit asked.

"The usual doom and gloom, end-of-the-world stuff," Bob said glibly. He didn't believe his resources should be directed at the government: he should have been out in the Pine Barrens exploring the rift. The scientific ramifications of the rift could completely blow all modern physics and biology out of the water. And the government wasn't exactly the foremost authority on scientific advances. He doubted any of the agents at the table had taken a science class after high school.

"Please adjust your tone, Dr. Bryar," a male suit said darkly. Bob felt like he was back in middle school.

"Is this rift truly a problem?" another male suit asked.

"Yes," Gerard said. "First, everything we know about the universe has been disproved. Physics has been violated, like, fucked up the ass with a trident." Mikey winced. "And these rifts are portals to another place in time and space. _Anything_ could go through them: a deadly pathogen or a _T. rex_ or a band of terrorists. We need to study – "

"Did you say rifts?" a female suit asked. "More than one?"

"If there's a door on one side of the wall, it's there on the other side, too," Frank drawled.

"We need to study these," Gerard continued. His eyes were wide and pleading. "We need to know if this is a new thing or if it's happened before."

"It's obviously happened before," Frank argued. "Even if it only happened twice, it happened in our time and it happened in the Jurassic: that's twice. However, if you take the sightings of the Jersey Devil into account, it can be assumed that there is a possibility of this rift opening and closing for the past three hundred years."

"What do you mean, Mr. Iero?" a male suit asked.

"I'm a doctor, too," Frank stated. "We're all doctors. I'm only a student again because I'm working on my _second_ doctorate."

"What he means," Bob intercepted, sensing Frank's ire, "is that there is a significant possibility that the rift opens and closes all the fucking time."

Frank nodded, but he continued to scowl at the suits.

"How do you know that it only happens in one place?" another male suit asked.

"We don't," Frank said.

"There are a ton in England," Mikey said.

Everyone looked to Mikey. Mikey looked back.

"Only over there they call it an anomaly. It's not a fucking anomaly. It's a rift," Mikey explained. Bob caught the grumbled, "Probably named by government bitches."

"Pardon?" a male suit asked. Bob hoped it wasn't about what Mikey had grumbled.

"They call their program ARC – Anomaly Research Center," Mikey stated. "Aren't you supposed to know that?" His phone chirped, and he drew it out to look at it. "And you guys all totally owe me. Pete is covering my class, and it's a disaster." Mikey and Wentz had clashing teaching styles – among other things.

The suits all gave Mikey an unimpressed look, but Mikey chose to ignore it.

"What proof do you have of these rifts?" a female suit asked Gerard.

"There's a picture on Mikey's phone," Gerard said.

"And there are pictures of Gladys on my phone," Frank offered.

Bob was going to kill Frank. The government didn't need to know about Gladys. Agent Schechter hadn't said mentioned anything about Gladys thus far.

"Who is Gladys?" a female suit asked.

Agent Schechter pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's a dinosaur," he said miserably.

"Fruitadens," Frank said with a smile.

"You have a dinosaur?" a male suit asked incredulously.

"Only a little one," Frank said with a shrug.

Bob decided to keep his mouth shut and kill Frank later.

"And you allege that these recent homicides are actually animal attacks?" a male suit demanded.

"Yeah," Frank said.

"There's no way that anything but an animal could make those wounds," Ray said. "The – unless the person used an animal tooth. But the wounds were tears, not sharp. Even a big cat would make cleaner wounds."

The suits stared at Ray.

Ray shrugged amiably. "I tracked big cats in southeast Asia as an undergrad."

Agent Schechter asked, "How shall I proceed?"

One suit said, "We will reconvene in half an hour. Don't go anywhere."

The suits all stood simultaneously and filed out of the room.

"Fuck," Agent Schechter said softly. "They're going to put me in charge of this entire thing."

"You should contact the office in England," Mikey offered. "They could give you advice."

Agent Schechter gave Mikey a sour look. "You five aren't escaping this either," he threatened.

Bob was expecting that from the moment he saw Agent Schechter on his front porch, but hearing it was completely different and sounded remarkably like a door slamming shut. In his face.

"This isn't going to be pro bono," Bob said. He would have done it for free for his own benefit and curiosity – and the benefit of his friends – but there was no way in hell he wasn't going to receive a paycheck for this. Especially if the government would be constantly breathing down his neck. It would be an annoyance tax. Except on the government.

Agent Schechter gave him a bland look. "You'd need to negotiate with payroll, and you'll need to be vetted."

"To sidetrack the conversation," Frank cut in stiffly. "How do we know if this has happened anywhere else in the US?"

"We ask the internet," Mikey said. "That's how I learned about the ARC program through Home Office."

Agent Schechter raised his eyebrows. "I'm positive that if Home Office had this information it would not be on the internet."

Mikey shrugged.

Agent Schechter sighed. "Do you already have an answer, Dr. Way?"

"There's no other place in the US," Mikey answered. "I've looked."

Bob would have asked many questions about how Mikey always knew everything if the suits hadn't filed back into the room.

"It has been decided," one of the male suits said, "that the six of you are now in charge of the maintenance and containment as well as research of these rifts and containment of what travels through them. Agent Schechter, you're in charge of managing your new team."

"We will send an agent to your residence, Dr. Bryar, for the collection of your… dinosaur," another suit said.

"No," Bob said quickly and firmly. Gerard looked ready to pounce on the agent, and he'd aim for the throat. Gerard wouldn't do much damage, but it was always a bad idea to attack a federal agent.

"This is nonnegotiable," the same suit said with a glare.

"Your experts wouldn't know how to handle her," Bob said. "You want us to deal with the rifts and everything that comes through. Gladys is part of that."

"Also, Bob's one of the leading paleobiologists in the country," Frank stated proudly. "He knows all about what they eat and shit. He would be the one you would contact as a consultant anyway, so let him keep his damn dinosaur."

Bob's a bit taken aback by Frank's vehement loyalty.

"That is not how the government works," a male suit said.

"I keep Gladys or I'm out," Bob said.

"If he's out, I'm out," Frank said. "And I'm not letting you keep Gladys either."

"There are always more scientists," a female suit said.

"But the quality is not the same," Gerard pointed out.

"If you want the best on the East Coast, you want Bob," Mikey said. Bob was unsure where this loyalty came from. Yeah, they're his friends, but there's no way in hell that he's the best in the country – or the East Coast.

"Hey!" Gerard protested with a scowl.

"And maybe Gerard," Mikey added.

"The point is I know that the government won't be able to keep her alive," Bob said. "I'm not losing a discovery as important as this to government incompetence. You wouldn't know how to care for her. You probably couldn't even figure out what she eats. And if you want to take a look inside her, you're going to need an MRI, not a scalpel." Bob hadn't thought he was the best in the East. He assumed that the suits won't know either way, and he hoped that they'd take Mikey's word. If that happened, Bob would be golden and all his demands would be met, even though he knew not to push his luck.

"We will contact you at a later date," a suit said curtly. Then they all left the room.

"Since when am I the best?" Bob asked.

"Since always," Mikey said dully. "I need to return to campus now." He didn't elaborate, but Bob figured it had something to do with Wentz. In which case, Bob didn't want to know.

Agent Schechter sighed. "I'll drive you back."

~

"They're not used to dealing with academic types," Agent Schechter explained as he dropped them off at the university.

"Does that mean we're still going to do this?" Gerard asked.

"Not if you're more trouble than you're worth," Agent Schechter said as he hopped back into his SUV. He then drove off.

"Well," Gerard said. "I have office hours."

Mikey had slipped away, presumably to take care of whatever problems Wentz had caused.

"I'm going to check on Gladys," Bob said.

"I'll go with you!" Frank enthused.

Bob shrugged.

"I would like to check on Gladys's dressings," Ray said.

~

Gladys hated Ray. She growled at him and tried to bite his fingers off. She then hid under a kitchen chair.

Bob was able to pull her out backwards by her tail and hips and hold onto her while Ray changed the gauze and tape on her leg. Gladys protested loudly, and Frank drank one of Bob's beers while he watched from his perch on the kitchen counter.

Gladys continued to hide under the chair once Bob released her.

Ray tossed his medical supplies into his bag, and the used gauze and tape into the trash.

"You want a beer, too?" Bob offered Ray. At least Ray had the manners not to raid Bob's refrigerator.

"Nah," Ray said. "I need to head to campus for my office hours and prepare for lecture."

"Okay," Bob said. "Is Gladys doing okay?"

"She'll be fine," Ray said. "Just give her a week or so."

"Thanks, man," Bob said as he showed Ray out.

"Good luck with Frank," Ray said wryly.

"Thanks for reminding me," Bob said matching Ray's tone.

"Don't come back soon!" Frank called from the counter.

Ray smiled slyly.

Bob hated Ray.

Bob then joined Frank in the kitchen, only Bob sat at the kitchen table like a normal person. "Do you have your dissertation notes?" Bob asked.

"You cannot seriously ask me to work on my dissertation," Frank said – whined. "I think I want to change it anyway."

"No," Bob said firmly. "You won't. How else do you expect to walk in May?"

"Bob," Frank said seriously. He looked Bob directly in the eye. "We have made quite possibly the greatest scientific discovery in the history of the world. It makes my dissertation on the hip structures of therpods and sauropods seem superfluous. Seriously, Bob."

Bob had to admit Frank had a point.

"I mean, what if the coelacanth reemergence had to do with these rifts? What if the Jersey Man-Eater in 1916 wasn't a Bull Shark? It could have been anything in the fossil record. What if every mythological creature is something from the fossil record? Or, to voice something that probably hasn't occurred to anyone in the Paleobio department, what if they're not from the fossil record because they don't exist yet?"

"You think they could open up to the future as well?" Bob asked. Frank was right: Bob hadn't thought about the future, only the past. He supposed it was a job hazard. He figured if he gave a damn about anything recent enough that it didn't need to be measured in millions of years, he might have thought about the future.

"It's a door. It opens in the past and future," Frank said. "What if we're the past?"

Bob remembered something horrible Gerard had said: "What if it's not just animals?"

"Meaning what?" Frank asked.

"Pathogens," Bob explained.

"Oh," Frank said, then, "Shit."

"Some futuristic disease could wipe out everything. I haven't even thought about what diseases Gladys might have," Bob said.

"She doesn't have any external parasites," Frank said. He took a long pull on his beer before he added, "That I can see."

"That's not exactly reassuring," Bob said.

"This is a depressing train of thought," Frank mused. "Why don't you grab a beer?"

"Offering me my own beer," Bob muttered with a shake of his head. He grabbed a beer anyway.

"Gladys is checking out the scene," Frank said. "She'll think it's safe soon, and you can examine her for parasites."

"That's not how I wanted to spend my evening," Bob admitted. He popped the top off his beer and sat down at the table again.

Frank waggled his eyebrows. "Don't let me get in your way, then."

"Frank, you're always in the way."

Frank's face went blank.

"Fuck," Bob muttered. "Not like that."

"Do you still have some cans of dog food?" Frank asked. His voice was carefully neutral. "Gladys might be interested."

"Uh, yeah," Bob said. "I just don't remember where it is."

"In the very back of the bottom self of the cabinet by the door," Frank rattled off.

Bob checked, and Frank was right. Instead of asking how Frank knew that, Bob grabbed the can opener. His brain was working overtime, and he didn't need to add Frank to the mix. Not like he wasn't already there.

He placed the open can of dog food under the chair where Gladys was hiding. He narrowly missed having his fingers chomped.

"We should probably leave her alone in the kitchen," Frank suggested. "That way she'll stop being skittish."

"All right," Bob agreed.

They took their beers into Bob's living room.

"Why are you here?" Bob asked. "Other than Gladys. It's not to discuss your dissertation or the rift."

"Where else would I be?" Frank shot back.

Bob gave Frank a dry look, but he didn't press the issue.

"Tell me about the Jurassic," Frank asked eagerly.

Bob hid his smile behind his beer bottle.

~

Agent Schechter swooped into Bob's office while Bob was explaining mineralization to a particularly dense undergrad.

"Yeah?" Bob prompted.

The undergrad looked a moment away from panicking or crying or both.

"I need to speak with you alone," Agent Schechter said darkly.

The undergrad took the hint and wasted no time in leaving Bob's office.

"Yeah?" Bob asked again.

"We're going to the Pine Barrens," Agent Schechter said.

"Really?" Bob asked incredulously. He raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Agent Schechter said. "Let's go now."

"No," Bob said. "You haven't given me a reason, and I have class in half an hour."

"Have your TA cover for you," Agent Schechter suggested.

"Not a chance in hell!" Frank declared. Bob hadn't seen Frank behind the agent. "I'm going with you!"

Bob sighed. There was no way he'd be able to talk his way out of this, so he decided to cut his losses. "Fine. Let me sent out an email and put a sign on the door. But first, tell me why we need to go to the Pine Barrens."

"There have been sightings of the Jersey Devil," Agent Schechter said with a toothy grin.

"Fuck yeah!" Frank shouted, punching the air.

Bob sighed. "If it really is a Dilophosaur, how the fuck are we going to protect ourselves?"

"What do you mean?" Agent Schechter asked.

"Even if you are packing – which you are – " Bob pointed to Agent Schechter's shoulder holster " – a bullet will only anger it. This is also assuming there's only one, which there won't be: they're pack animals."

"I managed to survive," Frank pointed out. "Twice. They really don't like cigarette smoke."

Bob was curious as to why dinosaurs would stay away from cigarette smoke. Maybe it was the burning of plant material. Or maybe it was some immune response to the chemicals in cigarettes. It was worth investigating, and hopefully no one would be eaten.

~

Frank led the way to the spot where the rift was located. The rift itself was going at full force, shining light through the sparse undergrowth. It looked different in the daylight.

"What the fuck is that?" Agent Schechter asked, awed.

"That's the rift," Frank snorted.

There was a roar, and then an answering roar followed by the pounding of giant feet.

"Scatter," Agent Schechter ordered as he dove behind a tree.

A Dilophosaur ran through the clearing where Agent Schechter had been standing.

Bob grabbed Frank, and they found another Dilophosaur on the other side of a tree.

That Dilophosaur charged the first Dilophosaur, and Bob and Frank happened to be between the two of them.

Bob pushed Frank out of the way of the charging Dilophosaur. Frank collided with a tree, but he was otherwise okay. Bob's momentum plastered him against Frank, sandwiching Frank against the tree. Bob could feel their pounding hearts, and their heaving chests pushed at the other. Frank's quick breaths warmed Bob's shoulder, and Bob's equally quick breath ruffled Frank's hair.

The adrenaline rush made Bob's head spin along with the relief that the dinosaurs were more worried about themselves than the humans.

Then Frank's hand was on Bob's shoulder, and Frank pulled himself up far enough to bite at Bob's neck.

Bob kicked Frank in the shin, and Frank licked the spot he had bitten as an apology.

Bob growled into Frank's ear, "Not now, Iero." There were a trillion reasons for that not happening when they were in the middle of the Pine Barrens, trapped between two dueling Dilophosaurs.

The hand Frank had on Bob's shoulder squeezed hard. Bob could feel the points of Frank's fingernails digging through Bob's hoody and into his back.

Frank nipped at Bob's ear.

"Not. Now," Bob repeated.

"There's a pack in my back pocket," Frank whispered. "And a lighter in my front."

"What side?" Bob asked, hoping for an answer before he began to molest Frank through his pants.

"Right," Frank supplied.

Bob slipped a hand between Frank and the tree to retrieve the pack of cigarettes before the dinosaurs could figure out they were edible. Bob ignored the soft noises Frank made as Bob lifted the pack from Frank's back pocket. The pack was a bit squashed, but Bob doubted that mattered. The cigarettes were still flammable.

Bob stashed the cigarettes in the pouch of his hoody and reached between himself and Frank to retrieve the lighter. Frank made interesting sounds, but Bob decided it was only safe to think about the lighter and chasing off the Dilophosaurs.

Bob pulled the lighter free and ignored the glazed look in Frank's eyes. Or the reaction Bob's own body had.

He lit two cigarettes, and handed one to Frank. He and Frank blew a thick cloud around their heads.

The dinosaurs paused in their fighting and fled back through the rift.

That was weird.

"Um?" Bob asked. "What the fuck?" He peeled himself off of Frank.

"They don't like cigarette smoke," Frank said.

"Okay," Bob said slowly. "Let's find Agent Schechter and get the fuck outta here."

They found the agent behind a tree looking thoroughly spooked.

"Hey, Agent Schechter," Bob said.

"For fuck's sake," Agent Schechter snapped. "We just survived a dinosaur attack, call me Brian."

"Okay, Brian," Bob said. "Does that count as proof of dinosaurs?"

"Well," Brain said slowly. "I think that's all the proof I'll ever need."

"Good," Bob said. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

~

"You should probably pick up something for Gladys," Frank suggested, poking Bob in the back of his head as they drove back to campus. "She can't live on dog food forever."

"I don't plan on keeping her forever," Bob said, swatting lazily at Frank's fingers.

"Fine," Frank huffed. "She can't live on dog food until her leg's healed."

"What do you suggest I feed her instead?" Bob asked. "The lettuce didn't exactly agree with her. Plants have changed in the past hundred million years."

"Then how about something that hasn't changed in a hundred million years," Brian suggested sarcastically.

Bob could feel Frank light up. "That's an awesome idea!"

"Fine, fine," Bob grumped.

"What the hell?" Brian asked. "I wasn't serious."

"It's still a good idea," Bob said. "Stop at the next pet shop."

"Pet shop!" Brian repeated, turning to glare at Bob. "What could possibly be sold at a pet shop that been around _that_ long? You want to buy her a goldfish?"

"Eyes on the road," Bob said mildly. "No: cockroaches."

"Cockroaches," Brian repeated flatly.

"Yes," Bob said.

"Can't you just bring her to any building in the city?" Brian suggested.

"Don't like cockroaches?" Frank asked innocently.

"Don't like spiders?" Bob shot back.

Frank humphed and said nothing.

"Cockroaches," Brian repeated.

"Why not?" Bob asked.

"Because they're nasty, disease-ridden, filthy creatures," Brian muttered.

"Not the ones at a pet store," Bob said. "Just stop at one."

~

Brian pulled over at first pet shop he saw. It wasn't the cleanest shop ever, and a lot of animals looked diseased.

"I bet all his cockroaches find their own way in," Brian grumbled. "I should bring in a building inspector. There's no way this is sanitary."

Bob shrugged.

"I've seen worse," Frank said.

It turned out that Frank's mother knew the store owner, and Frank was able to strike a deal that yielded free Madagascar hissing roaches. Brian made snide comments about the building being up to code, and Bob had to smooth out ruffled feathers. Apparently it was impossible for an agent to turn off being an agent.

~

On the way back, Frank sulked as he watched the roaches in their bag with a piece of cardboard egg crate.

"Lighten up, Iero," Brian said.

"Gladys will love you when you give her those roaches," Bob said.

Frank didn't say anything. Instead, he took out his phone and started texting. Bob assumed he had sent Mikey the text, except his phone chirped.

_i dont trust hm_

Bob sighed. _bc hes cia or bc you think im going 2 chose him over you_, Bob sent back.

_i saw u 1st_, Frank wrote back. He giggled as he did so.

_youre 12 &amp; a moron_, Bob sent back with a snort.

"Don't talk about me behind my back," Brian said absently.

Frank giggled and bounced the bag full of roaches into the front seat.

Brian made an interesting strangled sound.

Bob grabbed the bag and kept it in his lap for the rest of the ride.

~

Brian insisted on going inside Bob's house with Bob and Frank. Bob didn't think that was such a good idea, but Brian was their handler now. And he had a gun.

Bob set up a small fortress in the kitchen made from cereal boxes, instant rice boxes, and EZ mac boxes. Gladys hid under the table, and Frank made coffee.

The fortress trapped Gladys under the table. She could easily have broken through if she wanted to do so.

Bob tripped over the bowl of dog food he had given her earlier. It was only partially eaten. Good thing Frank had suggested picking up food for her.

He had placed the bag of roaches on the counter, and Gladys seemed interested enough in the sound of tiny legs scurrying on plastic that she stuck her head out from under the table and clicked up at the bag.

Bob smiled as he completed the fortress around Gladys. He grabbed the bag and dumped one roach into the fortress.

Gladys watched it carefully and then took a dive at it. She caught it and crunched it with her back molars. As she chomped, half the roach fell to the floor.

Brian grimaced.

When Gladys finished what was in her mouth, she ate the half that had fallen before looking around for more.

Bob dropped another roach into the fortress. This one immediately took cover behind a leg of the table. Gladys merrily stalked it. She then ate the head first and then the back end.

Bob gave her a third roach. Gladys took her time stalking this roach, and it looked like sadistic glee as she tore it to shreds then ate it.

She chirped at Bob, surprising him.

"Did she just ask you for food?" Frank asked. His voice sounded distant.

"Yeah, I think so," Bob said.

"She's a smart girl," Frank cooed. Hopefully at Gladys.

Bob dropped another roach into the fortress. "This is your last one for now," he informed her. Despite the fact that she didn't understand a word he had said, she cocked her head at him and went off to stalk the roach.

"The last thing I need is to clean up dino vomit along with dino shit," Bob muttered.

"Can dinosaurs vomit?" Brian asked.

"Why not?" Bob asked. "A lot of birds do. Don't tell me you've never seen _March of the Penguins_." So birds don't exactly vomit, per se. It's all crop juices. Although, Bob once read an article about flamingoes vomiting up partially digested food, so maybe some birds _do_ vomit.

Brian scowled.

"Hey, man," Frank said. Bob didn't want to know what was coming, but he had a feeling it was going to be a dickish comment. "If you're going to be our – "

"Frank, help me find a tank for the rest of these guys," Bob interrupted. "I think I have one in the spare room."

"But the coffee's ready," Frank protested.

"C'mon," Bob said.

"But – "

"Now, Frank," Bob said in a meaningful tone. "We'll be right back, Brian."

"Yessir!" Frank said.

~

There was an empty tank right in plain view.

Bob ignored it.

Frank ignored it.

"I think it's time to clear the air," Bob said.

"Is that what the kids are calling it now a'days?" Frank asked with a smirk.

"Yeah," Bob said. He crowded Frank against the wall. "That's exactly what the kids are calling it."

Frank giggled.

There was a crash from the kitchen.

Bob sighed.

Frank goosed Bob as he slipped around, grabbing the tank on his way out.

Bob followed Frank.

Gladys had decided that she didn't like Brian. She had toppled a chair in her haste to either run away from him or attack him. Bob's fortress of boxes had suffered as well. Cereal was scattered across the floor.

Frank placed the tank on the table and picked Gladys up, restraining her as she growled and snapped at Brian.

"What the hell was that?" Bob demanded.

"She doesn't like me," Brian sulked.

"No shit," Frank muttered. Bob could tell he was holding back a lot of what he _wanted_ to say. Frank pet Gladys slowly, his palm cupping the back of her head. She squirmed and nipped at Frank's fingers.

Bob dropped the bag of roaches into the tank without bothering to open the bag. He'd deal with them later, when there wasn't pandemonium in his kitchen.

Gladys was upset, so Bob plucked her from Frank's hands. Gladys immediately began searching every crease in Bob's clothing, presumably for food. He had no idea what else she could possibly be looking for other than food. She stuck her snout into every fold of Bob's sweatshirt. She then spotted the bag in the tank and let off a series of chirps.

"You're greedy," Bob said. He placed her on the floor, and she chirped up at the table. At least she had forgotten about her grudge against Brian.

"She's a wild animal," Frank said. "One that didn't even know what a human was until three days ago."

Brian gave Frank a nasty look.

"What?" Frank asked. "You were trying to pet her."

Bob ignored Frank and Brian as he grabbed another cockroach and dropped it to the floor, not worrying about his box fortress. He'd make Frank clean up the cereal later.

Gladys didn't disappoint and set off after the roach.

"We know next to nothing about their behaviors," Bob said. "It's best to leave her alone and only interact with her when she initiates."

Brian gave him a sour look.

Gladys wandered over to Brian cautiously, sniffing at his expensive shoes. She then shit all over them.

~

Frank was more than happy to see Brian go. After Bob had to explain that defecation was how dinosaurs marked their territory, nothing personal. Bob had no idea if Gladys's species did that or not. She wouldn't if she were a herd animal instead of a solitary animal. Bob had no clue. He did want to go back through the rift to observe.

Bob flopped down on the couch. "I set up the tank," he said. "I gave the roaches a tomato."

"We still need to clear the air," Frank said, dropping onto Bob's lap.

"Yeah," Bob grunted. His hands automatically went to Frank's hips to steady him.

"So," Frank said.

"Yeah," Bob repeated. He had Frank on his lap, and he'd wanted that for a very long time. The circumstances weren't ideal. Bob was upset with himself for thinking how much was Frank wanting this – and how much was Frank marking his territory. Bob had no idea where Frank's jealousy came from. Bob had barely noticed Brian in a nonprofessional capacity, yet Frank was all over him. There was also the problem of Bob being Frank's advisor. He could have waited until May. Bob hated his brain.

Frank bent down to bite at Bob's neck.

Something banged on the front door, like someone was trying to kick in the door, which was absurd, because the door wasn't locked.

There was another bang, and the door slammed open, spilling Gerard into Bob's front hallway. He quickly regained his balance.

"The fuck!" Bob demanded.

"You've been missing all day!" Gerard said. "I was _worried_!"

Bob snorted.

"But way to go, Bob!" Gerard beamed, giving Bob a cheesy two thumbs up.

Bob sighed. "The door wasn't even locked."

"Um," Gerard said. "Do you have an ice pack? I think I hurt my shoulder."

"Yeah," Bob said. He displaced Frank as he stood up.

Frank scowled.

Bob grabbed an ice pack from his freezer. Gerard and Frank followed him.

"What have you two kids been up to?" Gerard asked innocently as Bob handed him the ice pack. Gerard also eyed the spilled cereal and boxes all over the floor. Frank had better clean that up before he left. Bob would remind him later.

"Brian took us to the Pine Barrens," Bob said before Frank could do anything more than waggle his eyebrows.

"You went to the Pine Barrens with Agent Brian?" Gerard asked sulkily, placing the ice pack on his shoulder.

"Don't be too upset," Frank said. "We were almost eaten."

"And you didn't take me?" Gerard asked, adjusting his ice pack.

"You were in the middle of lecture," Frank said.

"So?"

"Does anyone value academics anymore?" Bob muttered to himself.

Gerard was already down on his hands and knees cooing at Gladys, who hid under Frank's chair. Bob didn't know why he bothered some times. He glanced at Frank. Other times, he knew exactly why he bothered.

"How's she doing?" Gerard asked eventually. He stood back up.

"She knows food comes from Bob," Frank said.

"She – really? Wow! That's amazing!" Gerard exclaimed. "I mean her brain's tiny and primitive and to figure that out so quickly!"

"She's a smart girl," Bob said with a shrug.

"If only the government didn't want us to keep her a secret," Gerard said with a sigh. "If we could publish…"

"And how do you think the public would react to knowing dinosaurs were tromping around southern Jersey?" Bob asked.

"They'd want them as pets," Gerard said.

"And that would be bad," Frank said. "Can you imagine some dumb Jersey Shore bunny wanting a _T. rex_? I mean, I'm all for natural selection, but the poor dinosaur might get sick."

Bob gave Frank a bland look.

"There would be panic and hysteria," Bob corrected. "People are already panicked and hysterical: there's no need to contribute to it."

"But if people don't know, it's conspiracy," Gerard said.

"People don't know what really happened to JFK, and we've had no problem going on with our lives," Bob said.

"Yeah, but whoever shot JFK isn't running around the Pine Barrens eating people 250 million years after they're supposed to be dead," Frank pointed out.

Bob shrugged. "How do you expect people to react, Frank?"

Frank shrugged and smirked. "How did you react to dinosaurs wanting to eat you?"

Bob leered at Frank to unsettled him. He giggled instead.

"That's not the normal, human reaction," Frank told Bob around his giggles.

"You didn't seem to be complaining," Bob reminded him.

"Stop flirting while I'm here," Gerard grumbled. "I'm a guest."

"A guest who nearly took down my front door," Bob said.

"You're feeding Gladys cockroaches?" Gerard asked, staring at the tank.

Bob narrowed his eyes at the change in subject, but he let it go.

"It's something that's around today that she would have eaten on the other side of the rift," Frank said. "It was my idea."

"That's brilliant!" Gerard said.

Bob didn't steal Frank's thunder by telling Gerard that it was actually Brian's idea. Despite it's sarcastic delivery.

~

Somehow Mikey and Ray invited themselves into Bob's living room, and Frank had distributed the contents of Bob's refrigerator and then wedged himself between Bob and Gerard on the couch.

"What I don't understand," Ray said, "is why any creature would head for the bright light of the rift. If anything, they should run away."

"What do we know about dinosaur eyes?" Frank asked. "Maybe they don't see the rift how we do."

"It's a possibility," Bob said. "Obviously the eyes weren't fossilized."

"Or it could be that when they're running for their lives, they just keep running," Mikey offered.

Frank tipped his beer bottle in Mikey's direction.

"Dinosaurs weren't – aren't nocturnal," Bob said. "They were – are diurnal. So their eyes couldn't have been that confused by the rift."

"I want to travel to the past," Frank announced. "Next time let me go, too."

Bob raised his eyebrows, trying to convey that Frank had stood there and ordered Bob to step through the rift.

Frank saw Bob's incredulity and met it with blatantly feigned innocence.

"Why didn't you go through last time?" Gerard asked.

Frank shrugged and pawed at Bob's shoulder. "Because Bob went. That way, he'd be eaten, not me."

"I can fail you," Bob threatened.

"But you won't," Frank sang sweetly.

"Wanna test that?" Bob challenged.

Frank waggled his eyebrows in response.

"You still haven't graded those lab reports," Bob told him.

"But Bob!" Frank whined. "They're so terrible!"

"I know," Bob said. "That's one of the perks of having a TA: making him suffer through grading lab reports in my place."

"So you suffer by proxy?" Ray asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Proxy?" Bob asked. He then pointed to Frank. "I suffer."

"Oy!" Frank objected.

"I have bruises," Bob said. "Bruises from when you wanted my attention, bruises from when you were an annoying little shit, and bruises from when you went kamikaze on my back."

"I'd be happy to rub balm on them," Frank said. His grin was almost too large for his face.

"Um…" Gerard said.

"Or you could not cause them," Bob suggested.

"Not an option," Frank said with a wave of his hand. He accidentally smacked Bob across the face.

Bob glowered.

"What happened with Agent Schechter today?" Ray asked quickly, before there could be carnage.

"He wanted to make sure that the rift was actually real and we weren't crazy," Frank said as Bob said, "He wanted to see the rift for himself."

"Then we were chased by Dilophosaurs," Frank added. "And Brian wasn't eaten, either," he stated proudly.

"No one was eaten," Bob agreed.

"Then we went to the pet store to buy Gladys cockroaches," Frank continued. "And then Gerard burst in on me and Bob necking on the couch."

Bob felt heat creep up his neck, and he knows that his ears were flushed.

Ray cleared his throat softly, and no one looked directly at Bob or Frank.

Eventually Mikey said, "Over share."

"Nothing but the best for you guys!" Frank declared.

Bob's head sunk into his hand, and he massaged his forehead with a great deal of pressure.

~

Bob was pretty sure the US government didn't want him to do any school work ever, because when he showed up at his office to put himself together before a lab, and Brian was there waiting for him.

Bob made Brian speak first. Bob went about taking out the necessary papers for the lab, hoping the silence would make Brian uncomfortable enough to talk.

Brian wandered into Bob's office after him without being invited. Brian closed the door behind him.

"We need to know how to contain the rift so that nothing else comes out," Brian stated resolutely.

Bob looked up from his papers. "You're three steps ahead of everything," he said. "We need to know how the rifts come into existence and why, how many there are, and how to detect them. Then we can figure out how to contain them. You're going to want to talk to Mikey about that."

Brian gave Bob an unclassifiable look.

"He's a physicist," Bob said. "But he's not going to eat you."

Brian frowned.

"You need someone to hold your hand, princess?" Bob asked. "I think Frank's free now."

Brian continued to frown.

"What?" Bob finally demanded. He could only ruffle papers so much, and he did need to go to lab.

"The CIA's willing to take you and your team on to work fulltime on the rifts," Brian said.

Bob stared at Brian before rocking back on his heels. "That's interesting."

"You and your team – "

"My team?" Bob interrupted.

"Yes," Brian said. "Your scientist friends."

"My scientist friends," Bob repeated blandly.

Brian scowled. "You and your team would be part of a field team to over see the management and containment of the rifts."

"Okay," Bob said.

"That's all you have to say?" Brian demanded.

"I'm giving a test next week in my paleobotany class," Bob added.

Brian stared at Bob in disbelief. "What?"

"It's the middle of the semester. Midterms were two weeks ago."

"So?" Brian asked.

Bob raised his eyebrows. "Does the government not believe in academics or something? I'm not going to abandon my students. And Frank's one of them. He's – "

"I get it," Brian said, holding up his hands, begging Bob to shut it.

Bob shut it.

"Ask your team – "

The door to Bob's office banged open.

"We'lldoit!" Gerard announced. It took Bob a moment to mentally space out the words.

Bob didn't even bother asking why Gerard had been eavesdropping.

Gerard, Frank, and Ray entered the room.

"Where's Mikey?" Bob asked.

"It's a lab day," Gerard explained with a flap of his hand.

Bob turned to Brian, who looked a little stunned. He had dived into the pool after only checking the temperature with his toes: he hadn't bothered to check the depth.

Bob sometimes had that feeling around Gerard and Frank, too.

"When do we start?" Frank asked eagerly.

"It's the middle of the semester," Bob protested.

Frank quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Dinosaurs, Bob!" Gerard said. He squeaked Bob's name. This wasn't even an argument anymore.

"You – " Bob pointed to Brian " – and you – " he pointed to Gerard " – will explain to the Dean why we're not going to be here anymore. Hell if I'm going to deal with that shit."

Gerard nodded enthusiastically.

"You need to be tactful about it," Ray pointed out.

Bob nodded firmly in agreement. There was no way in hell he was going to clean up that mess.

~

The Dean was a lot more relaxed about the entire situation than Bob had expected. They obviously had to finish out the semester via correspondence. Blackboard made that pretty easy. Frank was the tough one. He still needed to complete several courses and his dissertation before he could walk. Brian looked contrite about it, but he claimed Frank could earn field credit with the government. Bob was thankful the Dean didn't press why someone going for a doctorate in paleontology would earn field credit with the CIA. He probably thought it was aliens. Or the terrorists had bioengineered dinosaurs from DNA from a mosquito's undigested bloodmeal found in amber.

Bob had a deep-seated resentment for Jurassic Park. It had instilled incorrect information in the malleable minds of his impressionable undergrads. And the population in general.

After they left the Dean's office, Frank brought up where to set up a base of operation.

Bob was suspicious the moment Gerard and Mikey avoided all eye contact.

"What?" Bob finally asked.

"Mikey, uh, started building a machine in our basement," Gerard said finally.

"A machine," Bob repeated flatly.

"A machine that detects rifts," Gerard said after a brief hesitation.

"A rift detector," Bob said looking to Brian. "There's Step One."

"Is it functional yet?" Ray asked.

"Almost," Mikey said. "I have it able to detect them, but I don't have the location working."

Bob was impressed.

"And I have it set up to send me a text," Mikey added.

Bob wasn't exactly impressed as much as he thought it was predictable. And useful.

"Let's see it," Brian said.

~

They stood around something that looked like a Frankensteined computer. Bob vaguely wondered how many other computers were sacrificed to create this computer. There were so many wires of so many colors and girths melted to plastic parts. Bob thought he recognized a motherboard, but he wasn't sure. Maybe it had been one in a former life. He did recognize a hard drive but not the other three things attached to it.

"This is a rift detector?" Brian asked.

"A prototype," Mikey said. "It detects changes in the Earth's magnetic field as well as disruptions of radio waves. The receiver's on the roof."

"How did you do that without breaking your neck?" Frank asked. The question was more morbid curiosity than accusation.

Mikey frowned. "Ray set it up."

"Oh," Frank said.

"Does it work accurately?" Bob asked.

"Of course it works," Gerard said fiercely. "Mikey made it."

"I mean, has it been tested in the field," Bob clarified.

"Yes," Mikey said. "I said that earlier."

"How wide is the receiving thing?" Frank asked.

"About a hundred miles," Mikey said. "With better equipment, it could easily be tripled or quadrupled." He looked to Brian.

Brian sighed. "We don't have much of a budget, and I'm a breath away from being blacklisted and issued a pink slip."

"Does the CIA issue pink slips?" Gerard mused.

"Unless you five prove this to be a good use of the tax payer's money," Brian continued, ignoring Gerard.

"If a _T. rex_ or a mosquito comes through the rift, there should be a plan in place to keep people safe," Bob said.

"People need us, too," Frank said. Frank had been withdrawn for most of the day. Bob had no idea why. Although, it probably had to do with Brian becoming their new boss.

"Does that mean you _have_ a place?" Mikey asked.

Brian eyed him. "Yes. I have a warehouse just out of town. Once all of this proves to be a matter of national security, we'll be allotted a larger budget."

"This is shoestring?" Gerard asked. "This discovery deserves a lot more than a shoestring budget."

"It's currently nonnegotiable," Brian said.

"I want to see the warehouse," Bob interjected before ideals clashed. Brian probably had little to say with what the government did with their money.

~

  
The warehouse was huge.

"Fifteen acres," Brian said. "More than enough to hide a _T. rex_."

"Let's hope it never comes to that," Bob said. He wouldn't even want to keep Gladys here. It was too cold and impersonal. And Bob never wanted to meet a live _T. rex_. He had worked with Sue when she was first discovered, and even that was intimidating.

Mikey and Gerard had wandered off, but Frank watched Bob and Brian with a flippant expression that meant Frank was trying hard not to glare. Ray wrote down a list of all the supplies they might need.

"How shoestring is the budget?" Ray asked, holding up the eraser of his pencil to his chin.

"I'd imagine you'd have a larger budget through the university," Brian said dryly.

Frank snorted. "Does that mean…"

"A couple hundred thousand," Brian elaborated.

It sounded like a large budget. Until Bob thought about all the electronics they would need. He didn't even need to glance at Ray's list. And most Hollywood movies had a larger budget.

"Very shoestring," Ray murmured to himself.

Gerard returned without Mikey. "Um," he said.

Bob narrowed his eyes but hoped Mikey wasn't in trouble.

"Mikey's rift detector went off," Gerard explained.

"And you have no idea where," Brian continued.

"Yeah," Gerard said apologetically.

"Should we head to the Barrens to check?" Ray asked.

"I have a team stationed there," Brian said.

"We have a team?" Frank asked before Bob could.

"A team of special forces," Brian explained.

"Well, call them," Gerard said impatiently.

Brian rolled his eyes, but he made the call. There were a lot of interesting sounds made, but none of them were positive.

"No?" Mikey asked. Bob thought maybe they should put some serious consideration into Frank's suggestion of Mikey wearing a bell so he wouldn't sneak up on people.

"No," Brian confirmed.

"At least it's only within a hundred miles," Ray said. It was a weak offer.

Brian's phone rang. When he answered, every one of his words was clipped. "Schechter. Yessir. Nosir. Right away, sir." He snapped his phone shut with more force than strictly necessary. "There's a fucking pack of saber-tooth tigers on the Pike."

Ray's eyes lit up. Bob had never seen him so excited.

"Smilodon?" Bob asked. "That answers a lot of questions." Did the rifts open other places? Yes. Did the rifts open to more than one time in history? Yes. It was fucking awesome!

"As much as I would love a philosophical introspective," Brian grumbled, "there are fucking cats out on the Turnpike attacking cars. And rush hour is in an hour."

"Shotgun," Mikey stated.

~

It turned out that Smilodon was a solitary cat, but the mother taught the cubs – the two of them – how to hunt. And there was a rift in the median of the Pike just after exit 5. Near Rancocas.

Brian's team of people with big guns had set up road blocks on both sides of the Pike. The carcasses of a red Tercel, a dark green Explorer, and a beige Accord were on the northbound side.

The head of the team briefed Brian while Ray looked for tracking clues and everyone else stood around waiting for something to happen.

A man with a lot of hair approached Bob. "You look like you're in charge."

Bob raised an eyebrow. "I'm not." He pointed to Brian. "He is."

"The short one or the short one with the gun?" the man asked.

Bob looked at Brian and the other guy. They were both short, but only one of them had a large gun.

"The short one," Bob said.

"Cool," he said. "Thanks, man." He wandered toward Brian, who looked toward Bob and saw the man.

Brian frowned. He pointed to Bob and said something to the head of the ops team, who headed toward Bob.

"Dr. Bryar," he said, pushing his large gun out of the way. "I'm Major Patrick Stump. My team has secured the area and removed all civilians."

"Except one," Bob pointed out. He jerked his head in the direction of Brian and the other man.

"His Tercel was attacked and he, unlike everyone else, refused medical attention," Major Stump said.

"What story has he been told?" Bob asked.

"He hasn't," Major Stump said dryly. "I haven't even been told a story."

Bob raised his eyebrows. "Brian hasn't said anything to you or your team?"

"No," Major Stump said. There was a hint of distain in his voice. "We're completely in the dark." He paused and pointed to the rift. "But I'm assuming it has to do with that."

"It does," Bob agreed.

Ray came running up to them. "Bob! You're going to want to see this." He turned to Major Stump. "Do you have an extra one of those? With tranqs?"

~

The wilds of New Jersey weren't exactly wild unless one counted what passed for fashion. However, Ray led Bob to the only rocky outcrop surrounded by trees. Major Stump and his team had surrounded the outcrop as well, guns aimed at the small cave at the base.

Frank stood behind Bob. Gerard and Mikey had decided to stand behind the men with guns – Mikey had chosen Ray.

A tremendous yowl erupted from the cave, and the mother Smilodon emerged growling, ready for attack. Except it wasn't a Smilodon, not in any sort of likeness. It wasn't even a cat. Sure, it had large canines, but that was where the similarities ended. Its muzzle was way too long, and its canines were too small. It looked more like a dog than a cat. She had a beautiful grey pelt with splotches of tan, and she had deep brown eyes.

She went down with a tranquilizer dart in her left shoulder.

Ray went over to her to make sure she was out.

She was.

The two cubs needed coaxing to leave the cave, but Ray managed it with a lot of patience and a stick.

The cubs were tranquilized as well.

"Is that a…?" one of the special ops asked.

"It's a fucking bear-dog," Major Stump muttered.

"She's not a Smilodon," Frank said.

"No," Bob agreed. "She's not."

"What is it?" Mikey asked.

"I'd have to look at her bones, but I think it's an Arctocyon," Bob said. "I don't know too much about prehistoric mammals. And they look different when there's flesh and fur on their bones."

"Let's get them back through the rift," Ray said. He scooped up the mother, motioning to Gerard to pick up the cubs.

Gerard was delighted to do so. He carried a cub tucked under each arm, balanced on his hips.

~

The only problem was that the rift wasn't there anymore.

"Fuck." Bob wasn't sure who said it, but he agreed with the sentiment.

Ray stood there with a large prehistoric bear-dog possibly-Arctocyon in his arms staring at the empty air where the rift had been. Actually, they all stood around the grassy median staring at nothing, waiting for something to happen. Gerard gave Bob a desperate look, but Bob couldn't really do anything about the situation.

The man with the hair was still talking to Brian by the side of the road over the carcass of the Tercel. Brian didn't look happy with the whole exchange.

"Hey!" the man called, looking to Ray. "That is a bear-dog thing. I knew it!" He turned to Brian. "You suck at lying, dude."

"And what would you have said?" Brian asked witheringly.

"The light thing that's now gone was light reflecting off something shiny – like construction equipment – the sun does that when it's at that angle, you know, and those bear-dog things were dingoes that escaped from the Philly Zoo. No one really knows what a dingo looks like, but they know they're terrifying enough to eat babies."

Bob wanted to counter that people did – or at least should – know what dingoes looked like; however, he thought of some of his students, and that was all the convincing he needed for the overall stupidity and gullibility of some people.

Brian boggled at the man for a moment.

"You're hired," Frank declared, racing over to Brian and the other man.

Brian glared at Frank.

"Awesome," the man said. "I'm Joe. What's the job for?"

"Yes," Brian said icily. "What's the job for?"

"PR," Frank said. "He's a better liar than you. And not as tightly wound."

"Yeah!" Gerard echoed, not far behind Frank. "You said you wanted this contained." He hoisted the pups – not cubs – into a better position under his arms. "Joe could do that."

Bob followed, ready to run damage control. Everyone else followed him.

"I could," Joe agreed cheerfully.

"He could," Frank repeated, a little bit of a wheedle sneaking into his voice.

"We know nothing about him," Brian argued.

"I'm an accountant," Joe supplied helpfully.

"Oh, well, great," Brian grumbled. "An accountant."

"You're way too angry, man," Joe said.

"Have him vetted," Bob suggested. He wanted to put an end to the petty banter – and hopefully prevent Brian from killing someone.

"Yeah!" Frank agreed.

"So what kind of conspiracy is it?" Joe asked eagerly.

Gerard opened his mouth.

"Gerard," Bob warned.

"In the car," Brian ordered. "Everyone in the damn car. Put the animals in the trunk."

"That's not – " Ray protested. "What if they wake up?"

"Add a car-cage to the budget," Brian said. "I think this more than qualifies us for additional funding."

Ray beamed.

~

Bob shared a car with Major Stump and a fuckton of weaponry. The rest of Major Stump's crew was still at the rift site, cleaning up the mess and waiting for the tow trucks to pick up the wreckage. Bob was more than happy that he wasn't in the car with Brian, Joe the Accountant, Bob's friends, and three unconscious prehistoric mammals.

"Where're we going?" Major Stump asked.

"A warehouse," Bob said. Major Stump knew nothing about the situation that he hadn't seen in the past half hour, and Bob wanted to keep it that way. If Brian wanted to change that, that was his call, not Bob's.

"My team has a bet," Major Stump said as if reading Bob's mind, "about what type of conspiracy this is."

"What's winning?" Bob asked.

"Government experiment that escaped," Major Stump said with a shrug. "Although, alien is a close second. I figure we'll find out if we need to." That was a military answer if Bob ever heard one.

"And Joe?" Bob asked.

"Mostly harmless," Major Stump said. "But I'm not a profiler," he added as a disclaimer.

"You're special ops, Major," Bob said. "Of course you profile. You probably even know how many cats he owns."

"Two," Major Stump said. Bob couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "My team and I are Marines. We're not used to dealing with professor types and their questions, sorry."

Bob shrugged, not entirely sure what Major Stump meant.

"Your red-headed friend knew a lot more about guns than the average professor," Major Stump said.

"He studied big cats in Asia as an undergrad," Bob explained.

"You did not," Major Stump surmised.

"No," Bob agreed. "I didn't. Did you profile me as well?"

Major Stump shrugged again. "You're a scientist, but you're not someone experienced with live animals."

Bob raised his eyebrows, but he didn't say anything.

~

Bob was doubly pleased he hadn't shared a ride with everyone else. Partially because of the company – all those people in the same car was a homicide waiting to happen - but mostly because the Arctocyon mother woke up.

Ray had a slash across his left cheek, and his hair was pointed in every direction. But the Arctocyon mother was unconscious again.

"It was fucking awesome, man," Joe enthused. "You should have seen it."

Ray gave Bob a sympathetic look as he hauled the mother Arctocyon out of the back seat, where Bob knew it hadn't been at the beginning of their trip.

Gerard picked up the pups. He had a slightly dreamy expression. It looked similar to his just-got-laid expression, and Bob really didn't want to know.

Mikey had slipped away, and Frank had glued himself to Bob's side. Bob swatted Frank's hand away from his hip.

Brian looked like he had emerged from a war zone, complete with dirt smeared over the bridge of his nose.

"Where are the Arctocyons going?" Bob asked, knowing there wouldn't be a concrete answer.

"I can take – "

"No, Gerard," Bob interrupted.

"Mikey said he knew someone who worked at the safari park at Six Flags," Frank explained. "He's acquiring a couple cages for temporary use."

"Okay," Bob said. He wasn't sure what else to say about questionably legal activities for creatures that have been extinct for millions of years.

"That someone better not come here," Brian warned.

"Dunno," Frank said. "He said to give him two hours."

"Great," Brian said grimly. "I suppose that will give us enough time to brief the newest members of this team."

Bob's eyebrows shot up.

"Into the warehouse," Brian ordered. "Everyone."

"Does that – "

Brian cut Joe off. "Everyone."

~

Ray and Gerard temporarily put the Arctocyons in a larger version of the roach barrier Bob had created for Gladys. The only difference was that if they woke up, they could jump over the barrier of crates, no problem.

Ray had a gun at the ready should such an occasion arise.

The eight of them squeezed into what Bob assumed was the former office of the warehouse. It gave them all a clear view of the Arctocyons.

"I have been given authorization," Brian began, "to give you, Joe, and you, Major Stump, authorization for this classified section of the US government. Stump, that authorization extends to your team."

"My team knows how to keep a state secret," Major Stump said.

"This is not a normal operation," Brian warned. "There are no 'bad guys' or black ops or whatever your imaginations are telling you."

Joe nodded eagerly, and Major Stump stood at attention, waiting for Brian to make his point – explain the mission.

"There are rips in time and space – rifts, as my scientists have been calling them – that have been opening all over Jersey and allegedly England." Brian studied Joe's and Major Stump's expressions carefully. "These rifts allow animals and people to travel between those two places in space and time."

"How?" Joe interrupted.

"We're still working on that," Brian said tightly. "This is a brand new operation."

"You said people?" Major Stump asked. "You said there were no bad guys."

"No," Brian said. "There aren't any bad guys. These men have allegedly been to the Jurassic." Brain made a wide gesture to encompass Frank, Bob, Gerard, and Ray.

"Technically it was me, Mikey, and Bob," Gerard said. "And Gladys."

"Who's Gladys?" Joe asked. "Is she the hot secretary? I didn't have one of those at my last job. Just a cool guy named Tyson."

"No," Brian said. "There's no secretary."

"And if there were," Gerard added, "it's not cool to objectify! But Gladys is a pretty girl."

Brian shot Gerard a withering look.

"She is," Frank confirmed.

Joe, and to a lesser degree, Major Stump looked intrigued.

"She's a dinosaur," Brian sighed out, admitting defeat. "A little one."

"No shit, dude," Joe said in an oddly zen-like voice. He turned to Major Stump and said, "Dinosaurs, man! That's fucking awesome!" That second half of his statement was not zen-like at all.

"Dinosaurs," Major Stump repeated. "I take my job seriously. And this is not – "

"I take my job seriously, too," Brian said. "And after almost being turned into dinosaur shit, I'd have to say this is very serious. It – " Brian's mouth snapped shut at the unmistakable sound of a semi in reverse.

"The fuck," he muttered.

"That was quick," Gerard said. He rushed out of the office.

~

Mikey stood next to the back of a white, unmarked semi when everyone poured out of the warehouse to crowd around him. The back was already open.

"I have cages," he stated.

"Did you drive that?" Brian asked sharply.

"No," Mikey said.

"So that means that there's a person somewhere around here who knows about us needing cages and where those cages are going?" Brian demanded. "It's like the word 'confidential' means nothing to you people!"

"It's okay," Mikey said. "Gabe can keep a secret."

"And we need someone to look after the animals that don't make it back through the rifts," Frank pointed out. "They can't all live with Bob."

Brian scowled at Frank.

"Bear-dogs can't feed themselves, you know," Frank said sweetly.

"Actually," Ray interjected. "They can, but we don't want them feeding on people."

Bob kept quiet. He figured that was the wisest course of action, especially when someone stuck his head out of the back of the semi.

"Where do you want them?" Presumably-Gabe asked.

He appeared from the gloom of the back of the truck.

"In the warehouse, Gabe," Mikey responded as if the answer were obvious. "We can't use them outside."

"I wasn't going to ask you how you were going to use them," Gabe said, then disappeared back into the truck.

Mikey turned to Brian. "Gabe knows how to keep his mouth shut."

Brian looked like he wanted to bang his head against something. Instead, he yanked out his phone, pressed a number with more force than strictly necessary, and stormed away before he began to talk.

"I think you might have a new job," Mikey called up to Gabe.

Gabe stuck his head out of the gloom in the back of the truck. "Kick ass, man," he said. "Hey, any of you guys wanna lend a hand?"

Ray and Frank hopped up into the truck. Bob almost grabbed Frank by the collar to prevent him inside, because it could only end one way: Frank injured for doing something stupid involving heavy equipment.

Bob frowned as he heard faint yipping from inside the warehouse. He wasn't the only one who heard, either.

"Uh, Major Patrick?" Gerard asked. "I think you need to use your gun."

Major Stump and Gerard hustled back into the warehouse. Bob followed. He wasn't going to let Gerard be mauled by an Arctocyon or a family of Arctocyons.

By the time they reached the Arctocyons, the mother stood on top of the crate fortress, and Major Stump wasted no time tranquilizing her.

Bob wasn't sure if they should worry that they needed to keep tranquilizing the mother, and he wondered if they should worry that they didn't need to keep tranquilizing the pups.

He helped Major Stump haul the mother back into the crate fortress.

As they emerged from the boxes, Mikey came in with Gabe and Joe. Joe was earning his keep, talking to Gabe about escaped dingoes cornered in the warehouse and how they were all waiting for the representative from the Philly Zoo to pick them up.

Gabe had a smile plastered on his face – as if he saw through Joe's bullshit.

Ray and Frank followed them wheeling in cages on dollies.

"Where should these go?" Ray asked.

"In the corner," Bob said at the same time Gerard said, "By the boxes," and Mikey said, "There is fine."

Frank giggled, which wasn't at all helpful.

"In the corner," Bob repeated, eyeing Gabe suspiciously. He looked more than interested in the entire situation. He was Mikey's friend, but even that didn't make Bob entirely sure of Gabe's character. Bob doesn't want just anyone around the animals that come through the rifts.

Gerard didn't look too impressed with Bob's decision, but he didn't say anything. Mikey shrugged.

Ray and Frank wheeled the dollies into a corner and set them down.

"I'll get the pups!" Gerard volunteered quickly. He dashed for the crate fortress, clamoring up over the boxes.

Ray followed him quickly, which Bob figured was a wise decision. He doubted Gerard had thought about climbing out of the crates while holding a pup in each hand.

Frank also jumped onto the tower of crates. He makes a gimme gesture with his hands, and Gerard heaved up a pup.

Frank then passed it to Bob with a secretive smile. Bob had no idea what that meant, but he unfortunately knew why his stomach did a little flip.

He frowned, but he took the pup from Frank and placed it in a cage.

Frank gave Mikey a wink when he thought Bob wasn't looking. Sadly, Bob's always looking. It's a terrible habit, worse than his smoking and will probably kill him sooner.

Frank tried to pass the other pup to Mikey, but Mikey refused to have anything to do with it, holding up his hands and backing away with narrowed eyes.

"It won't bite you," Frank cajoled.

"No," Mikey said.

Bob rolled his eyes and plucked the pup from Frank's hands as Ray pulled the mother up from the crates.

"Those aren't dingoes," Gabe said. "I haven't a fucking clue what they are, but they're not dingoes."

"That's totally a dingo," Joe insisted.

"Dude, I work with dingoes," Gabe said. "Those aren't dingoes."

Brian shuffled back into the warehouse looking crushed.

Bob raised an eyebrow as he looked up from around the pup in his arms. It was on the cusp of waking up, and Bob didn't want to waste any time in placing it somewhere it wouldn't bite him.

"Tell Saporta everything," Brian said with a defeated sigh.

"Everything?" Gabe said, looking up from behind a cage.

"Yes," Brian snapped. "And it's not going to be me!" He then stomped out of the warehouse.

Bob was able to place the pups in the cage before they woke up but only just.

"It's really awesome!" Joe said.

"It's even cooler than awesome!" Gerard agreed.

~

Brain had an emergency meeting in New York, which left every one else to their own devices.

Bob headed to the university to clear out his office. He was not amused that Frank followed him.

"You'd better pull your weight if you're going to help," Bob warned him.

Frank nodded enthusiastically.

Bob stood in the doorway of his office for a moment, taking in everything. He had fought for tenure for seven years, and he had just earned it last year. He's not sure why Mikey had called him the best: if he were, he wouldn't have needed to fight for tenure. Maybe the university thought he wasn't a great professor, but if he was the best as Mikey had claimed, he would have brought in students from all over. The university would have been all over _that_. Maybe the university knew that he wasn't all that great with his students. Bob read the reviews his students gave him, but he doubted the university did.

"Having second thoughts?" Frank asked.

"No," Bob said.

"C'mon, then," Frank said, pushing Bob into his office.

Bob tossed a couple boxes onto the floor by his desk. Frank helped him methodically place all of Bob's academic life into a total of three boxes. Most of Bob's fossil collection could fit in a box. The only one that didn't fit was a replica of Pachycephalosaurus skull.

"You've been quiet," Bob said suspiciously. Frank had said only a handful of words as they packed up Bob's office.

"I'm just taking everything in," Frank said, which wasn't an explanation.

"Why have you been quiet?" Bob asked.

"Well." Frank drew out the word as if he was unsure what words came after. "You're not my advisor any more."

"We're all finishing out the year," Bob told him flatly. Bob wasn't going to deal with whatever stupid decision Frank had come to: that was Frank's problem.

"You're finishing out the year," Frank said. "I'm not."

"Why the fuck not?" Bob demanded, crossing his arms.

"I've pulled some strings," Frank began. "The work I've been doing – will be doing – with the government will count for my dissertation. And all other course work I need to do."

Bob stared at Frank.

"I believe you were there when the first conversation went down. In the Dean's office. I'll still earn my doctorate," Frank said. He scanned Bob's face. Bob hadn't a clue what he was looking for, but Frank must have found it, because he smiled brightly. "You're. Not. My. Advisor. Anymore," he repeated as if Bob were ridiculously slow.

"I see," Bob said slowly.

Frank shrugged. "Just thought I'd throw that out there."

"If you were going for subtle…"

Bob trailed off as Brian stalked into Bob's office. It was the last time he'd ever do that. Not that Bob was nostalgic or anything.

"Good," Frank said woodenly. "You can help us haul Bob's shit."

Brian didn't look enthusiastic about it, but he said, "Fine."

Frank shoved the heaviest box into Brian's arms.

"Why're you here?" Bob asked.

"I just offered my ass up for you guys," Brian said. "We now have a rather large budget. Taken out of the Homeland Security budget. And the two of you, as well as your three friends, that strange accountant, the man with the cages, and Major Stump and his team are now employees of the US government under a new, completely classified branch."

"Um," Bob said. "Really?"

"I even have badges for everyone in the car," Brian said.

"Badges?" Frank blurted, almost dropping his box in excitement. "We get badges?!"

"Yes," Brian said.

Frank turned to Bob. "Badges!"

"I heard," Bob said. He busied himself in trying to find his car keys to hide his smile.

~

"So…" Joe said. "Funding? Awesome." He held out a hand for Brian to high five. Brian ignored him. Gabe took Joe up on his offer.

"We are now the Federal Bureau for Management and Containment of Rifts," Brian said. "The eight of us and Major Stump and his team are the members."

"I'm hired?" Gabe asked.

"Yes," Brian said. It sounded very much like he was trying to keep the exasperation from his voice. He was mostly failing. "You and Toro will be in charge of taking care of animals that don't make it back."

Gabe gave Ray a shit-eating grin.

"Anyway, we're extremely classified. I know that some of you have issues with classified material." He gave Mikey a pointed look. "But from here on out, everything here is _classified_, and Trohman will _keep_ it that way."

Joe punched the air enthusiastically.

"Over the next few days, a government construction team will turn this warehouse into a high security facility," Brian said. "If any of you have requests, you'd better make them now."

"Paddocks," Ray blurted out.

"Paddocks?" Brian repeated.

"To keep the animals that don't make it back through the rift," Ray explained. "And a greenhouse to grow plants for them!"

Brian frowned, but he jotted down notes.

"I gave you my prototypes," Mikey said. "We need those."

"I know," Brian said, keeping his tone neutral.

"We also need a budget to feed the animals," Gabe added.

"An armory," Major Stump said. He gave Gabe and Frank a look. "A locked armory. And a garage with a mobile armory."

"You already have a mobile armory," Brian grumbled.

"Not one for hunting dinosaurs," Major Stump argued.

He had a point. Brian thinned his lips, and he wrote that down as well.

"A CT scanner," Ray said.

"We also need to conduct research about where these animals come from," Gerard said.

Bob decided that Brian would take care of their needs, and he went off to see how the Arctocyons were doing. They looked devastated in their cage. The mother looked worse off. Everything about her drooped from her ears to her tail.

Bob heard Frank's uneven footsteps and prepared himself to be jumped on. Frank didn't jump, though; he stood next to Bob, but he didn't touch Bob at all.

Bob looked over to Frank. Frank stared at the Arctocyons.

"There's something wrong with the mother," he said.

"Yeah," Bob agreed.

"Do you think that it has to with her diet?" Frank asked.

Bob shrugged. "Or she's sick with worms or she's in a cage or she's not in the right time period."

"Right," Frank sighed. "It could be anything."

~

The government worked quickly. Brian was right. It did only take a few days. In those days everyone was forbidden from entering the warehouse. The Arctocyons were fed and cared for. However, the mother died on the second day. The workers, under Brian's order, had preserved her body in a freezer.

Ray was distraught by her loss, but he was eager enough to look inside her.

~

After the government workers cleared out, Mikey installed his rift detector in the warehouse as Bob installed the PA system, so anyone in the warehouse could hear the rift detector go off.

"How do we know if it works?" Gerard asked, worrying his lower lip.

"When big noises spook the bear-dogs," Frank said with a sage nod.

"They're Arctocyons," Bob corrected.

"Bear-dogs," Frank insisted.

"Don't let the government here you talking like that," Bob warned. "Or they won't give you your doctorate."

"Fuck you," Frank told him primly.

"Did you figure out how to give us a location for the rift openings?" Gerard asked, ignoring Frank.

"I figured it out two days ago," Mikey said. "Don't distract me."

Bob hooked up the last wire, and a horrible, high pitched, bleating sound echoed throughout the warehouse.

The Arctocyons began to howl. It sounded very eerie in tandem with the other noise.

"What the fuck is that?" Frank demanded.

"Are you testing the system, Mikey?" Bob yelled.

"No!" Mikey shouted back.

"Oh," Gerard said. "It must be a real rift."

Bob gave Gerard an unimpressed look.

"We never got around to setting up a procedure," Frank said.

The alarm stopped.

"Where are we going?" Gerard asked.

"The Pine Barrens," Mikey said.

"Oh," Gerard said. "Dilophosaurs again. Do you think they'll try to eat us?"

"That's why we're bringing all the people with guns," Bob said. "I'll go tell Major Stump."

~

Everyone – including Joe but not including Gabe – piled out of Bob's Jeep as soldiers spilled out of Major Stump's van. (Bob's Jeep only sat five. Frank had to sit on Gerard's lap. Bob should add "company vehicle" to the list of wants.) Each soldier had a large gun, but Bob wasn't sure how effective guns would be on a dinosaur. He's pretty sure it's never been tried before.

A roar echoed through the forest.

"Why do they love to come through the rift?" Frank mused.

Joe's eyes widened. "That sounded like…"

"A dinosaur?" Bob filled in.

Joe nodded dumbly.

"What? You thought we were kidding when we said dinosaurs?" Bob asked.

Joe shrugged.

"Let's go push those Dilophosaurs back through the rift," Frank suggested.

"You know where we're going?" Major Stump asked.

"Yeah," Gerard said eagerly. He then tramped off into the forest.

"Ross and Navarro," Major Stump barked. "Stay with the vehicles. Everyone else, you're with me. One per scientist. And Trohman. Tranq unless the situation merits bullets."

Gerard led everyone directly to the open rift. Well, it was more like everyone followed Gerard, who had taken off. The dinosaurs were nowhere around, which troubled Bob.

"It's like the one on the Pike," one of Major Stump's soldiers whispered.

Bob let the opportunity to insult a jarhead slide. Besides, he had Frank to pick up his slack, and there were dinosaurs tromping around the woods ready to eat them.

"The goal is to get all the dinosaurs back through the… rift before they eat anyone," Major Stump announced. He'd obviously been speaking with Brian. Dinosaurs eating people was something Brian would bring up. Or Frank. Or Gerard. Or Mikey.

"How do you propose we do that, sir?" one of the soldiers asked. He was a different one than before. Bob hoped no one expected him to remember names. He didn't even think they were ever all introduced. Not that that mattered, because there were dinosaurs weighing over a half ton and wanting to find easy prey. There was always the off chance that they had just eaten and were not looking for tasty, defenseless people, but Bob had been lucky lately, so that luck was probably gone.

Major Stump glared at the kid. Bob almost felt sorry for him.

"Don't be eaten," Major Stump advised, "and keep your scientist safe."

"Hey!" Joe exclaimed.

"And Trohman," Major Stump added. It would probably result in bad PR if their PR guy was eaten. "Fan out."

Frank glued himself to Bob's hip. "Remember that tree?" Frank whispered. He began to giggle part way through his question.

Bob rolled his eyes. "You and I seem to end up here a lot," he said dryly.

Frank cackled.

A twig snapped not far to their left, and something decidedly not human snorted. Bob attributed stress to thinking that the snort sounded like a horse.

"Fuck," Frank breathed out, pressing into Bob's side.

Bob maybe pulled Frank in closer. Not that he'd admit it.

The Dilophosaur stood about a meter away from them, watching them very carefully. It looked down at them, and Bob could see its beady eyes sizing them up.

It snorted again, blowing Bob's and Frank's hair. It had truly foul breath, and both Bob and Frank had difficulty not gagging on it.

Now would have been a good time for the soldiers they were supposed to have for protection to help with the dinosaur.

The Dilophosaur's nostrils flared again, and it was totally the wrong thought to have, but Bob admired the muted red patterns on the dinosaur's muzzle. Not blood, Bob noted thankfully. Bob also thought about Frank's fingers digging painfully into his arm, but that was more of an afterthought.

"Hey!" someone shouted from the other side of the dinosaur. "It's not cool to eat scientists!"

The Dilophosaur wheeled around. It almost smacked Frank across the cheek with its tail, except Frank ducked just in time for the tail to smack Bob in the neck.

The force of the blow made Bob stumble a step, and Frank's death grip on Bob's arm caused Frank to stumble as well.

It took Bob a moment to compose himself and breathe properly again. By then the dinosaur had fallen with a tranquilizer dart to the chest and a loud groan.

"So," the soldier said. "That's a dinosaur."

"I know," Bob said tightly.

"What the fuck?" Frank demanded. "We were almost dinner, you fuck!"

"But you weren't," the soldier said brightly.

Major Stump materialized next to Bob. "How the fuck are we going to get that back through the rift?"

"I think," Bob said delicately, "the other dinosaurs should be handled first."

"They have been," Major Stump said. "How do you intend to keep the dinosaurs from coming back through the rift?"

"I thought that was your job," Frank shot back. "You know, part of the keeping us safe shit."

Bob placed a hand firmly on Frank's shoulder. Frank wanted a fight. There were times and places for fights. In the middle of the Pine Barrens with a Marine Major over the unconscious half ton body of a Dilophosaurus was not one of them.

Frank squirmed, and Bob tightened his grip, curling his fingers into Frank's flesh.

Frank gave Bob a nasty look, but he stopped squirming.

"We're going to need to discuss this when we get back, Stump," Bob said darkly.

Major Stump didn't look too impressed. He then looked to the soldier. "Well, get some rope!"

~

It took every single one of them to drag the Dilophosaur to the rift. All of them except Mikey, who fiddled with a strange machine. Bob didn't want to think about Mikey and strange machines, not when an angry Dilophosaur could wake up at any moment – or a whole pack of Dilophosaurs could run out of the rift. Bob was fairly certain that the rift itself could close at any moment, too.

"Hey, Mikey!" Frank yelled. "How long do we have before the rift closes?"

Mikey looked up from his machine. "It's still holding a magnetic field. You're good for at least five more minutes."

That timeframe didn't exactly inspire confidence.

"Okay," Major Stump muttered. He then barked, "Blackinton, Suarez, go through and make sure it's all clear. Suarez report back if it is. Once we have the all clear, drag the dinosaur through."

Major Stump nodded to two soldiers who headed cautiously through the rift. A moment later, the shorter of the two returned and said, "All clear."

"Let's go," Major Stump ordered.

Everyone except Mikey and Gerard heaved the dinosaur through the rift.

Bob once again felt the rift sucking at his skin, and the Jurassic was just as pristine as the last time he had been there. He made a mental note to beg Brian for a chance to explore the Jurassic landscape when they weren't being chased by dinosaurs that wanted to eat them. Bob doubted it would involve much begging: he'd just say he was going and commandeer Major Stump and his team.

The moment the dinosaur was through everyone ran back through the rift.

"Clear the rift!" Gerard yelled, waving his arms at them.

Bob frowned, but he scurried out of the way.

Mikey aimed a dangerous-looking machine at the rift and fired.

The rift formed a circular ball. It was just as bright as it had been before, but smaller and more compact. Like the broken mirror had been rolled into a strange disco ball suspended in the middle of the woods.

"Fuck yeah!" Mikey and Gerard cried simultaneously.

"What the hell did you just do?" Frank demanded.

"I sealed the rift," Mikey said triumphantly.

"You – what?" Major Stump asked.

"The rift," Mikey said. "I sealed it. Nothing can go through on either side."

"How long will it last?" Ray asked.

Mikey shrugged. "Probably until it disappears again."

"But you don't know," Major Stump pressed.

Mikey shrugged again. "A week ago we didn't know what a rift was."

"It's certainly a lot better than Frank's idea to build a cement wall around the rift," Gerard added.

Frank stuck his tongue out at Gerard. Bob was sorely tempted to bite it, but thankfully he still had a sense of priority.

"That was a damn good idea, and you know it!" Frank sulked.

"So we don't have to worry about dinosaurs trying to eat us?" Joe asked hopefully.

"Not if they came from this rift," Mikey said.

"Kick ass," Joe said with a nod.

"How much longer will the rift be active?" Major Stump asked.

"Its magnetic field is still strong," Mikey said. "I'd say maybe another ten minutes. Maybe twenty."

"You're not sure?" Major Stump asked.

Gerard glared at Major Stump. "Mikey is one of the best phys- "

"It's all right, Gee," Mikey said. "Major Stump's just doing his job."

Gerard humphed and crossed his arms.

Everyone stood there in silence until the rift snuffed out of existence some ten minutes later. Bob wasn't counting. Instead, he watched Frank poke the ground viciously with a stick.

"Okay," Major Stump announced. "Everyone back to The Warehouse."

~

Brian reamed them out for a full twenty minutes after they returned to the warehouse. He was upset by how unprofessional Major Stump's soldiers and how stupid the scientists behaved. Then, when Brain retreated back into his office, Major Stump did similarly to his soldiers.

"What the hell were you expecting?" Major Stump screamed. "You were told dinosaurs! You were told to watch your scientists! Two of them were almost dino shit!"

The soldiers stood at attention and took the abuse. Everyone else stood of to the side of the line of soldiers.

"This isn't the Gulf!" Major Stump continued. "But you were given your orders! The lot of you should be court marshaled! You we told you there would be dinosaurs! You. Do. Not. Question. Orders! You. Follow. Them! I don't give a fuck how ridiculous you think they are!"

Major Stump took a deep breath. "Now, you good-for-nothing asshat Christfuckers will listen to everything Dr. Bryar says and take all of it as _truth_. Because it _fucking is_!"

Bob narrowed his eyes at being dragged into this when he was quite obviously trying to stay out of it.

He snorted and said, "There are rips in space and time, and dinosaurs and other prehistoric animals go back and forth. I'd prefer if my team and I were not eaten."

"Here, here!" Frank cheered. He punched the air, and then he punched Bob.

"You can let Frank be eaten," Bob amended.

"Hey!" Frank protested.

"Okay, fine," Bob relented. "Don't let Frank be eaten."

Frank nodded.

"Ray and I can help you with understanding their behaviors," Bob said reluctantly. "Although a lot of predators just want to eat us."

"And," Frank cut in, "we're not sure of everything yet. There might be animals from future."

"Or not in the fossil record!" Gerard added.

Frank nodded vigorously.

"Don't let us be eaten," Mikey said. "That would suck."

~

Gabe had been put in charge of caring for the pups. He delighted in it. In fact, he had become unbearable and smug, which was also unbearable. Gabe also began to beg to be let out in the field. Brian stood firm on his vehement "no."

In retaliation, Gabe began teaching the pups tricks. There were the standard "sit," "stay," and "come." But then there were the untraditional "bite" and "shit." "Fetch" also had untraditional implications. Bob didn't want to think about that too hard. It involved the destruction of his favorite hoody.

Gabe also began to pester Brian about bringing the pups home with him.

"But Bob got to keep a dinosaur!" Gabe argued. Bob didn't know how Gabe had found out about Gladys, but that hardly mattered. Bob was mostly just upset because a pup ate his favorite hoody that he nabbed out of The Warehouse when Bob had taken it off, because the building's been made to emulate the Cretaceous so it felt like fucking July in Florida.

"Gladys is also fucking tiny and unlikely to eat a person," Brian countered. "An Arctocycon is a totally different fucking story." Brian was upset because he was pretty sure a pup marked its territory in the office. Or more specifically, Brian's chair.

There was no way that Gabe would ever win his argument, especially as the pups grew to the size of a German Shepherd.

There was no way they could return the pups back to their own time, though. It wasn't like raising wolves. No one knew the Arctocyons' behavior in the wild or even what the environment was like – or most importantly, how they hunted.

~

It was actually disturbing how quickly life and work in The Warehouse became normal. The Warehouse became a lab. A very high tech lab.

The rift detector would go off, they hurried out to the rift, closed it before anything could happen – or sometimes they were able to close it after something had happened, which was always interesting – saved the day, and Bob went home to take care of Gladys. Sometimes Ray joined him to monitor her health, and sometimes Ray sent Brian if he was too absorbed in studying a species that had come through the rift. On those occasions, Frank always followed like a disgruntled chaperone.

After a week of this, Bob lost it with Frank. Ray was engrossed in studying the CT scans of a Dimorphodon, so he sent Brian along to check on Gladys. (At first, Bob had thought the pterosaur was a new species not from the fossil record, but it was just an immature, and catching it had been an interesting challenge.)

Brian had barely shut the front door on his way out, when Bob demanded, "What the fuck, Iero?"

Frank tried to pull his innocent shtick, and Bob would have none of it.

"Oh, hell, no," Bob said. He pushed Frank down onto the couch. Bob loomed over him. "Now."

Frank's eyes darted to Gladys toddling around the kitchen and quickly back to Bob again.

"Frank," Bob said, lowering his voice to a dangerous level.

"I've backed off," Frank muttered.

"Not really," Bob retorted mildly. "You're acting like a jealous twat."

"Am not," Frank groused.

"You're acting jealous of Brian, for fucks sake," Bob said. "And you've stopped jumping on me and stopped stealing my hoodies."

"You told me to stop stealing them," Frank mumbled.

"I didn't expect you to actually _listen_," Bob admitted. Frank never listened to what Bob had to say, even in the lecture hall. "And you know full well that you're the only person I've necked on that couch."

"Probably not the only one you've wanted to," Frank mumbled.

"My God," Bob scoffed. "There's no way you're that fucking insecure."

Frank gave Bob a very calm expression, and Bob was not going to buy it. He grabbed Frank by the upper arms, digging his fingers in a bit harder than necessary, and forced him against the wall.

Frank's expression changed to one conveying a challenge. Frank was ready to fight.

Bob then sank to his knees and reached for Frank's zipper. "Notice it's you here and not Brian."

~

"So," Frank said slowly. "That's new."

Bob raised his eyebrows. Frank had never been one for understatement.

They stood at the mouth of a cul-de-sac watching who the hell knew what tottering around the pavement in the most cookie cutter of neighborhoods. Soon some housewife was going to demand to know what Bob and Frank were doing, and then she'd notice the animals. And the armed guards that accompanied both.

And there was water all over the pavement, too. And a fish floundering about.

Bob had been firm with Major Stump about who was be assigned to them. Since there was no soldier who could match Bob's size, he was assigned someone close to him in size. As close as possible. His assigned soldier was skinny as a rail, but Lieutenant Blankinton was competent. Bob had also been firm with who would be matched up with Frank, and he thought there was a good match with Lieutenant Smith. Smith was also competent, and between both Smith and Blackinton, the wit was the driest Bob had ever witnessed.

For this run, Major Stump had sent out Lieutenant Asher as well. She kept everyone in line just as well as Major Stump.

"Dude," Blackinton said. "Those are Great Auks."

"They look like funky penguins to me," Frank countered.

"No," Asher said. "Definitely auks."

"Do you see the rift anywhere?" Bob asked.

"Shit," Frank said. "These things reek of dead fish. I don't want them back at The Warehouse."

"Saporta will handle them," Bob said.

"Didn't auks go extinct less than 200 years ago?" Smith asked. How did people know this when Bob didn't? He kept up with modern extinctions, too.

The auks floundered around the pavement, flapping their stubby penguin-like wings.

An elderly woman stood on her front stoop watching the auks and watching them watch the auks.

Frank flashed her a grin and then flashed her his badge. "MCR, ma'am. We're here for the birds."

The woman sneered at Frank and slammed her front door as she went back inside her home.

Frank shrugged and looked to the birds.

"Are they trying to swim on the pavement?" Smith asked.

"That one's trying to catch a fish," Asher said, pointing to a particularly floundering bird as it struggled to follow a flopping fish over the rough pavement. Then it found a pothole with water and released a honking squawk.

"We have nets, right?" Frank asked.

"Of course," Asher said. She and Blackinton disappeared into the back of the van.

"I like it when the animals that come through the rifts don't try to eat us," Frank said, which, frankly, surprised Bob. Frank enjoyed the adrenaline rush. And jumping Bob afterward.

He gave Frank and incredulous look.

Frank returned Bob's incredulity with a wide grin.

Smith scooped up a bird. He just walked right up to it and scooped it up like it was nothing. Like it wasn't squirming and honking and flapping and biting.

"Cage," he said.

Asher opened the cage in the back of the van, and Smith shoved it into the cage and quickly shut the door.

His hair looked wrecked, there was a gash on his forearm, and the front of his shirt and pants were soaking wet.

He gave Frank and Bob cutting a look, knowing that Frank would say something inappropriate, because he always did, and knowing Bob wouldn't stop it in time. Bob wasn't Frank's keeper, and he had no idea why people kept thinking he was.

Asher doesn't say anything when she hands Smith a large net. Nor did she say anything when she gave a net to Frank and Bob.

What followed was something Bob wanted to forget. It involved little dignity and gratuitous use of nets and running around suburban Jersey chasing flightless, honking birds. However, it also involved catching all of the auks and shoving them into the back of the van. The birds stank of dead fish and spoiled seawater, so that meant that everyone in the van ending up smelling of dead fish and spoiled seawater.

They also ended up soaking wet, and Blackinton had bird shit on his pants. Asher was the only one who had emerged unscathed in any way. Bob envied her.

"Ray's going to have kittens when he sees these," Frank announced as he spread out over the back bench of the van. "Kittens!"

"I think he's still working on that Morganucodon thing," Asher said from the front.

"Kittens!" Frank insisted.

"Yes, Frank," Bob said. He placed a hand on Frank's shoulder.

Frank beamed up at Bob and dropped his head into Bob's lap as they drove back to The Warehouse formulating a story about how to convince Ray that he should let Frank play with the expensive equipment and extinct animals.

Bob sat back and kept his hand on Frank's shoulder.

~

"I have explicit directions from Ray to check on Gladys," Brian said a bit sheepishly. He brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck to emphasize his tone. "He, uh, he couldn't break away from his current engagement."

Bob raised his eyebrows, but he let Brian in.

"Hey, Bob!" Frank called from the kitchen. "She's figured out that parrot puzzle ball thing."

Brian gave Bob an incredulous look.

Bob shrugged. "He found it at a pet store."

Frank stuck his head into the hallway. His giant smile wilted slightly.

"I'm here under Ray's instruction," Brian explained. "He wanted to know how Gladys's leg is. It's been a week since he last checked, so…"

"She's doing fine," Frank said. He ducked back into the kitchen.

Bob and Brian followed.

Gladys was fine. She chased a ball around the kitchen, jumping on it periodically and pulling sticks out of it.

"Mighty hunter," Brian noted. "So I can tell Ray she's fine?"

"She's fine," Bob agreed. "She's not even favoring her other leg." He paused and added "Once the snow melts in the spring, she can use the backyard."

"You haven't tried to paper train her, have you?" Brian asked suspiciously.

"No," Bob said firmly. "I'm not going to attempt to paper train a dinosaur." It was time someone pointed out how ridiculous that statement was. He turned to Frank. "And I'm not walking her on a leash like a dog."

"So why Gladys?" Brian asked. Bob wondered how long Brian had wanted to ask that question.

"Gerard named her," Bob said.

"I mean why not Ducky or something?" Brian pressed.

"Ducky's kinda lame," Bob responded.

"And Mikey has issues with _The Land Before Time_," Frank said.

Brian raised his eyebrows, as if he was unsure if Frank was messing with him or not. He was about to say something when his phone chirped.

Then Bob's and Frank's phones chirped.

"Looks like a rift opened up," Brian said.

"Yup," Bob agreed. "In… Atlantic City? Really?"

Frank giggled. "Those gamblers are in for one hell of a surprise."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Brian grumbled. "Grab your badges, boys. I'll give you a ride to The Warehouse."

 

**Bonus Scene!**

"I just intercepted a phone call from a residence about a dinosaur in an indoor swimming pool near the city," Brian said wearily. He set down his phone on his desk and poked at it with a faint sneer. The phone was almost swallowed by the piles of papers that were probably important. And half of Brian's lunch was perched precariously on the tallest pile. Bob didn't know where the other half was, but he was fairly certain Brian hadn't eaten it. Brian had run out of higher ground when he berated Gerard about the state of his lab.

"Why didn't the rift detector go off?" Bob asked sitting down across from Brian's desk. He figured this was why Brian had summoned him into his office. If not, it was probably about controlling Frank. Seriously, Bob wasn't his keeper. People needed to remove that thought from their thick, stupid heads. However, Bob was a step away from becoming Brian's keeper. Brian needed one as much as Frank but for different reasons. Frank needed someone to keep him out of trouble, and Brian needed someone to help him stay organized. Apparently Brian hadn't thought of all the paperwork when he was given the job. Or maybe he had, and that was why he had been reluctant.

"Mikey's been playing with the wiring," Brian said. "He's busy and so're Gerard and Ray. I want you and Frank to head out. Take Blackinton, Smith, Suarez, and a truck. I'll call Trohman and tell him to meet you there."

"On one condition," Bob said, leaning back in his chair so he could cross his arms.

Brian raised an eyebrow. It drew focus to the lines around his eyes, and paper thin skin under his eyes made it easy for Bob to see the dark circles.

"You eat lunch and go home tonight," Bob said, then added, "To _sleep_."

"I went home last night," Brian protested.

"Of course you did, princess," Bob placated. "I think it was one of my former students who went with you."

Brian scowled.

"I could be lecturing you about coed undergrads," Bob pointed out.

Brian sunk his head into his hands and massaged his forehead with his fingertips. "Fine," he muttered. "Just get the damn dinosaur, and good luck explaining everything to the homeowner."

~

The girl at the smiled up at Bob. "You weren't the poolboy I asked for, but you'll do."

She yanked him inside, and even from the other side of the closed door, Bob could hear Frank cackling. The girl dragged him deeper into the house. Everything in the house was orderly. He even passed through the kitchen: everything was in its place. There weren't even dishes in the sink. The house wasn't that lavish, so Bob doubted there was an in-house maid.

When Frank realized the door wasn't going to open again, he banged on it and shouted for Bob to open up.

Bob heard later that Smith had ended up opening it. Apparently, Frank didn't think to use the handle.

Bob had already been swept away to a modest indoor pool. There was a dinosaur in it.

"I have a dinosaur in my pool," the girl stated unnecessarily.

"Uh, yeah," Bob said, wishing Trohman didn't take so long to respond to calls. "On call" meant he needed to respond to calls.

"Well," the girl said, placing her hands on her hips. "The chlorine can't be good for him."

Frank and the soldiers caught up with Bob and the girl.

"There's a dinosaur in her pool," Frank said. He looked quickly to the girl. "I mean, dinosaurs died out millions of years ago… Is that an ichthyosaur?"

"I know that," the girl said. "He needs to be taken out."

Smith eyed the dinosaur. "I'll grab some cables." He and Blackinton hurried back outside.

"So?" the girl prompted. "Why is there a dinosaur in my pool?"

"Look, miss," Bob floundered.

"Ashlee Simpson," she supplied.

"Look, Miss Simpson," Bob said. "This is…"

"My job!" Trohman declared. Bob rolled his eyes. It was about damn time. Trohman then proceeded to tell Simpson a story that had absolutely no basis in reality.

She didn't buy it.

"That's not a dolphin. I know a dinosaur when I see it," Simpson said stubbornly. "I just want to know how it ended up in my pool. Even if it were a dolphin, I'd still want to know how it ended up in my pool."

Bob gave her a speculative look. She was obviously intelligent and obviously rich. Unless the house didn't belong to her.

"Is this your house?" Bob asked. "Or are you house sitting?"

"My house," the girl said tightly. She didn't supply any more information.

"Okay," Bob said. She was obviously successful; otherwise, she'd never be able to afford Jersey property tax. Of course, Bob assumed that her success was legitimate – legal. She didn't look like a crack dealer.

"What do you do for a living?" Bob asked.

She tilted her head suspiciously. "I'm a singer."

"Oh," Bob said. That hadn't been what he expected.

"I know my reaction to you could be considered flirting, but those were not my intentions," she said in a really dangerous tone for someone so slight.

Frank sniggered. Bob smacked him.

"No," Bob said cautiously. "I wanted to ask you if you wanted a job."

"A job?" she asked doubtfully.

The soldiers returned with ropes and hooks and a tranquilizer gun.

Frank jumped into the pool with all of his clothes on. The ichthyosaur immediately objected. It thrashed around in attempt to snap at Frank, but the pool was too narrow for it to turn around. It settled for smacking Frank with its tail.

Frank sank to the bottom of the pool.

"God damn it," Bob muttered.

The soldiers sprang to restrain the Ichthyosaur as Bob thrust a hand into the pool to yank Frank back up. He was unconscious, the fucker. Bob checked for breath and a pulse. They were both there.

Bob tried to remember his first aid, but his head just kept giving him flashes of Frank looking too pale with clammy skin.

"Out of the way," Simpson said. She pushed Bob aside.

She checked Frank's breath and pulse and then began to force the water from his lungs.

By the time Frank coughed up the water from his lungs, the soldiers had dragged the tranquilized ichthyosaur from the pool and into the backyard with intent to drag it around to the front and into their truck.

"Does this make me Sleeping Beauty?" Frank wheezed.

Simpson slapped him but not too hard.

Bob simply punched Frank. "You're an asshole."

"Let me grab some towels for you," Simpson said. "You might be the same size as my boyfriend. I can lend you a change of clothes."

"The lengths I go to just to get naked in somebody else's house," Frank said with a shake of his head.

~

With Frank drying off in the bathroom and the soldiers securing an ichthyosaur in the truck, Bob asked, "Do you want a job with us?"

Simpson raised her eyebrows. "With dinosaurs appearing in indoor swimming pools and your partner jumping into dinosaur-infested waters?"

"That about covers it," Bob said dryly.

"But we have the military to keep us safe," Trohman added. Trohman had definitely not earned his keep today.

"Sometimes," Bob said, glaring at Trohman.

"What would my job be?" Simpson asked.

"First!" Frank announced as he entered the room. "Have you ever done cocaine?"

"Excuse me?!" Simpson cried, clearly affronted.

Bob took his badge out of his pocket and showed it to her. "Government job, government rules."

"Oh," Simpson said. "This is a government job? My taxes go to dinosaur rescues?"

"Yup," Frank said with a pop.

"Ashlee!" Someone shouted from outside. "Ashlee!!"

Bob scowled. He knew that voice.

Simpson frowned. She then went to her front door and shouted out, "Pete! Why are you shouting? Just knock on the door!"

"There are men with guns telling me to stay away!" was shouted back.

Simpson turned to Bob. "Can you tell your men to not shoot my boyfriend? The dinosaur's gone. He should be able to come in without violating your confidentiality laws."

Bob gave her a speculative look. He hoped she took the job he offered, because she was exactly who Brian needed to keep him in line. Keep all of them in line.

The only problem was her boyfriend.

Bob looked to Frank. "Fine," Bob said. "But Joe, you'd better talk to him." Bob then leaned out of the door and said, "Let the man through."

Bob resisted pinching the bridge of his nose as Pete Wentz bounded up to the door.

Frank looked down at his clothing and wrinkled his nose before he gave Bob a pleading look.

"Bobert?" Wentz asked as he stopped short. At least he wasn't bounding anymore. Then he said, "Are you wearing my clothes, Iero? Ashlee!" Wentz then turned to Trohman. "Joe? I haven't seen you since undergrad… What the hell is going on?"

It's like the entire state was six degrees of Pete Wentz.

"Hey man," Trohman said, giving Wentz an easy smile. "Ashlee was having some problems with her water table. A contaminate, you know. We're just here to make sure everything's been cleaned up properly."

"Bryar and Iero are paleontologists," Wentz said suspiciously. "What do they have to do with it?"

"New job," Frank said with a shrug.

Wentz narrowed his eyes. He was even more suspicious than before. "What about the men with guns?"

"They're there to make sure idiots like you don't come in contact with the contaminants," Simpson said frankly. She put her hands on her hips, jutted out a hip, and gave Wentz a superior look. Bob liked her, and again he hoped she would take the job. She would be _exactly_ who Brian needed to keep him in line.

Frank gave her a large grin. "Does that mean you accept?"

Simpson gave him a bright smile. "How could I say no?"

"Okay," Bob said. "Let's go meet your new boss. Wentz, don't you have classes to teach?"

"Ashlee sent me an emergency text," Wentz said.

"Everything's all right, Pete," Ashlee said, placating him. "I need to go with these men to fill out some paperwork."

Wentz gave Bob and Frank speculative glances before he relented and went off… after giving Simpson a kiss that seemed more like he was marking his territory. Simpson had pinched his arm in retaliation.

"So you know Pete?" Simpson asked.

"We used to work with him," Frank said.

"So you know Mikey, then?" she asked.

Frank flashed her a blinding smile. "He's my best friend! And we still work with him."

"Pete said he disappeared," Simpson continued. "But if he's working for a classified government branch, I suppose that makes sense."

~

"Who the fuck is that?!" Brian's shout echoed throughout The Warehouse and caused the Arctocyon pups to howl in return. He pointed around Bob to Simpson, where she stood in the doorway of his office.

"Your new assistant," Bob said. He pointedly eyed half of Brian's lunch, right where it had been when Bob had left his office earlier that day. He didn't point out that it was closer to dinner time than lunch.

"She hasn't been vetted, and she most certainly has _not_ been hired as my assistant!" Brian protested. "There's no way she should even _be_ here. I'd expect this from Frank or Mikey, but not from you!"

"All of my business has been plastered all over TMZ," Simpson said.

"TMZ?" Brian scoffed. "Are you a Hollywood brat?"

"Excuse me," Simpson said, affronted. "You're clearly one to talk. This Hollywood brat at least values organization. I'm sure it takes you an hour to find something you need. And I eat regularly, which is more than I can say for you." She swept a hand to encompass Brian's entire desk.

Brian stared at her.

Simpson crossed her arms over her chest.

Frank pulled up a chair and watched eagerly, until Bob grabbed Frank and pulled him out of Brian's office.

"You're still wearing Wentz's clothes," Bob said. "You can change out of them at my place."

"I don't have any replacement clothes at your place," Frank stated. "I keep them in the truck of my car."

"I know," Bob said.

"…I like the way you think," Frank said with a smirk.

"Bryar!" Brian called from his office. "She's your responsibility!"

"That means I'm hired!" Simpson shouted.

"Good!" Bob said.

"Bob," Mikey said. Bob was very proud of himself for not jumping. Seriously, he wondered if he could file a work order for a bell for Mikey. "Why did Pete send me a text about you stealing his girlfriend?"

"She's Brian's new assistant," Frank said.

"Oh," Mikey said. "Brian needs someone to make him eat. I fixed the rift detector."

"Good," Frank said. "But Bob said he'd take me home and defile me."

Bob glowered at Frank.

"Have fun," Mikey said with a wave of his hand. He wandered back to do whatever it was he was doing.

End!

This was created for Bandom Big Bang. It has bonus material that can be found [here](http://autonomyanatomy.livejournal.com/28670.html).


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